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jasonrae117 · 10 months

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Just Another Hollywood Scene

CHAPTER 2- Media Frenzied

Damian was furious, that insufferable woman at the pathetic excuse for a coffee shop made him look like a complete asshole when in reality he was simply trying to expedite the process because they were taking too long. Now here he was drinking the subpar coffee in the lobby, grinning at his win. That will be the last time I see her.

“Ahem, Damian?” The receptionist, Barbara Gordon, called.

He pulled himself out of his short lived reverie, “Yes Gordon?”

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49727071/chapters/125517982

“I really wish you’d stop using my last name, reminds me of waiting for my dad to be done at the police station.”

“We are at our place of business, and we must conduct ourselves professionally.”

“You call me that no matter where I am!”

“Hm, instinct I suppose since I don’t see you that frequently outside of work hours. Anyway, what room is the meeting in? I’m already behind schedule, I don’t want to be late.” He leaned against the counter slightly.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes as she typed something into the computer. “Looks like your father canceled the meeting and rescheduled it to…friday at one o’clock.”

“Four days from now? But the article is supposed to be released tomorrow!” He almost yelled.

“Oh, there’s a note in the memo. The media team delayed the release until Friday as well, but at five.”

“They can’t be serious! What did my publicist have to say about this?” He took a step back and began pacing.

“Damian, I don’t know why or what happened, I just have the new times. Why don’t you ask your father or Dick?” She said gently while readjusting her glasses.

“No, I don’t need their excuses. Well then I’ll see you on Friday.” He huffed.

“Mm, not so fast there. You have a preliminary costume fitting on wednesday.”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, I’ll see you on Wednesday.” He stormed out of the office building.

How could they just cancel the meeting discussing the procedures of handling the media frenzy. They were supposed to announce his involvement with the movie and begin his media tour to garner buzz for the movie. Now that it’s delayed the Gotham Gazette won’t be happy that they didn’t have their front page news when expected and that might reflect poorly on him, like they weren’t confident it would sell well.

Here’s the problem Damian always had when it came to his own stardom. Many people assumed he got his starring roles because of his father’s connection to the industry or his adopted brother’s ties, and while he in no way claims that he does not benefit from nepotism, a lot of the roles he earned on his own.

Damian started out like anyone else in this business, background roles or extras. Sure he had the best access to those roles, which he publicly thanked nepotism for, but he did his time in the background and it was other directors, lead actors and actresses, and the public that begged him to start aiming for starring roles. So, he did just that and he was a natural of course, you can’t live with one of the best actors in the world and not pick up some skills, but Damian brought something totally new to the game.

For starters, he was half Middle Eastern which he takes a lot of pride in and is happy to bring at least some representation to Hollywood. He also liked to think of himself as more in tune with his characters, that he delves deeper into who they were to better understand who they are. Not to discredit his father, but Damian simply believed he was in some ways, if not most, a better actor than anyone in his family. He wouldn’t dare openly admit that, but everyone around him seemed to suspect he felt that way.

Unfortunately Damian was somewhat of a diva. He had no intentions to be but when he sees something that can be better, he speaks up. If he thinks something is out of character or doesn’t make sense he brings his complaints to the writer and director. But the thing that most directors hate initially is that Damian would go off script and completely improvise very dramatic scenes.

Why then would he keep landing these roles if he is such a nuisance to work with? It’s because he was almost always right about the changes and his improvised scenes were arguably his best work and has won him countless awards. He was, plain and simple, a phenomenal actor.

Even with all the praise he gets, Damian still has to answer to the trolls that ruin every interview or live Q&A. The ones that demand he acknowledges his privilege with nepotism and being half white, which he does, every single time. It’s like these people don’t believe the awards or the raving reviews of his movie, or even the general consensus online. They make him feel like he has to continually prove himself, make a bigger name, to show that he is more than his father’s name. That’s why Dick went into directing, to get out of Bruce’s shadow.

Damian thinks that staying out of the public eye as much as possible will help his image and have him not come across as wanting to always be in the spotlight. But Bruce pointed out that all that does is make him seem like a recluse that only wishes to grace people with his presence when he has won something. Damian hates PR and having to do those talk shows or Buzzfeed Interviews but it's the only way he can change this image of himself according to his father. The only public thing Damian enjoys is his charity work with the zoos across the nation and the local animal shelters. Damian trusts animals more than people and he can tell they don’t think he is who he is purely because of his familial ties.

This life was exhausting but rewarding all at the same time, he wouldn’t give it up for anything. Which is why he was incredibly irritated they had rescheduled his article in the Gazette, because now that meant more PR meetings and probably more interviews to make up for the delayed information.

Damian had gone to his favorite vegan cafes a block down, he made the trip down here, might as well make it somewhat worth his time. As he was about to head out and back to his condo, he changed his path walking back toward the offices, promptly deciding to see if his father or brother were in so they could discuss the delay. When Damian got out of the elevator on the seventh floor a half dozen assistants and execs were milling about and chatting excitedly. When they saw him, some tried to scatter but still offered a polite smile.He gave a nod in their direction but continued his way towards Dick’s office.

He couldn’t clearly make out what they were talking about, but everyone was in unusually high spirits. The beginning of a large budget movie was often hell for everyone, so something must have recently happened to garner this much excitement.

As he approached the Dick’s office, Jason Todd came strolling out with the ever present smirk he always had. Damian had known Jason for almost half his life, he played one of Bruce’s sons in a project for several years and then got his own spinoff from that. He was your average roguishly handsome actor with a ‘I don’t give a shit’ mentality, he did come from nothing unlike Damian and worked his way to the top. He was in some theatre production at a local underfunded middle school that Bruce donated money to and stopped by to see their fall play. Bruce was blown away by Jason’s performance at such a young age, but what’s more is that when Bruce exited the theatre to go back to his car, he caught the young Jason trying to steal the tires. Instead of involving the police, Bruce introduced himself and offered to pay for acting lessons for the kid and got him a few auditions which he landed.

Since then, Jason has almost been a part of the family. Bruce and Jason didn’t always see eye to eye as Jason was brash and prone to scandal, but it was almost as if Bruce had officially adopted Jason, he was around the manor often enough, he might as well have been a legal son.

Still Damian was often annoyed by the slightly older man’s behavior, always feeling like Jason was squandering the opportunities his father gave him by being drunk in public and saying outlandish things, as well as literally fighting off paparazzi. He also toted around a new woman every week and it felt like gross behavior from someone who was given everything.

Damian resented Jason in some ways too, because the only thing that separated the two of them was that Bruce chose Jason to follow in his footsteps, but he was forced to give Damian those same opportunities. Except as the media saw Jason as an underdog story that made it big, Damian’s success was purely nepotism. Not to say Jason didn’t also deserve the roles he got, he was admittedly a good actor, but it wasn’t fair to be so similar yet treated so differently.

“Hey little D.” Jason said, meeting him a few steps from Dick’s office.

“Todd, what did I say about nicknames?” Damian narrowed his eyes at the taller man.

“To be fair, I don’t remember half the things you actually say to me. I try to block you out but your incessant complaining really knows how to pry its way in my head occasionally. “ He shrugged and was about to continue walking but he stopped himself just to the side of Damian’s shoulder. “We’re all in a pretty good mood, Dick especially. Try not to sour it for fucking everyone.” He patted him on the shoulder, which Damian instinctively shoved off.

“I only complain when there is something reasonable to complain about, and how other people perceive my constructive criticism is not my problem.”

“Yeah because telling me to stop wearing my leather jacket is such a reasonable complaint that entirely affects your life.” He rolled his eyes.

“You wear it year round and half the time you don’t even ride your motorcycle because you’re being driven around. It's pointless and you think it makes you look cool, but in actuality you look like an imbecile. But I’m glad to see that maybe the tides are changing since it seems to be absent from your outfit today.” Damian smirked smugly, but was confused to see Jason shoot back the same look.

“You’re wrong about pretty much everything you said just now, but I don’t give a rat’s ass what your opinion is on my outfits or why I chose to wear what I do, but I will let you in on a little secret. I was wearing my jacket today, took it off while I sat in on a few auditions for your little superhero movie, and now it rest on the shoulders of one fucking hot new actress in town that, and here is the secret,” He leaned into Damian’s space whispering, “ will probably be your leading lady.”

“Great so I may have to deal with some bimbo that probably slept her way into the audition and-” It was Damian’s turn to roll his eyes but Jason’s unforeseen shove made him stumble and swallow the rest of his sentence.

“Don’t fucking say things like that. She had a fantastic audition while also being fucking hot. Don’t be such a prick and just assume things about someone because I say she’s hot.”

“Only girls you think you have a chance with do you even bother bringing up and 90% of the time they’re bimbos so excuse me for jumping to conclusions. Besides, there’s still auditions for the roles over the next couple of days, we don’t know anything yet.” Damian took a step forward but looked over his shoulder, lowering his voice, “And don’t even think about laying hands on me again Todd, we’re not friends, and we are not family.”

“Fuck you little D, you used to be a touch nicer when you were younger, guess that stick never came out on its own. I can just see it now though, you being jealous when you see your co-star and knowing that you can’t have her because I already will.”

Damian fully turned to him now. “First, I don’t date coworkers. Second, anyone interested in you isn’t smart enough to be interesting to me.”

“Mark my words Dami.” Jason called out making his way down the hall and to the elevators.

Damian was already frustrated on his way up, now he was just down right pissed off. Jason sure as hell knew how to push his buttons. He tried his best to shake the conversation and took a deep breath before heading into his actual brother’s office.

“Hey D! Everything alright out there? I heard you and Jay’s conversation get a little heated.” Dick was milling about his office, collecting stacks of files together.

Dick’s office was very cluttered but in particular groupings. He thrived in organized chaos, he was a researcher at heart and made sure to analyze every bit of data before making a decision. It’s why he was such a good director, he really understood the background of his movies and would make sure they were as accurate as possible. His mahogany desk could barely be seen beneath the mounds of different colored folders representing anything from future projects, schedules, resumes, and even lunch menus to his favorite restaurants. The floor to ceiling window across the back wall of his office gave him an impressive view over the city and let a lot of natural light in. The office was still overall bright and clean, with off-white walls and light tan wooden panels, the light reflected well around it. Knick knacks from his early days with his real family in the traveling circus were placed neatly on the many bookshelves around the office. He had a plush couch and armchair in the corner facing a large flat screen TV and a coffee table that matched the rest of the wooden furniture in the room. On the other side of the desk were two comfy green velvet chairs for guests to use. It was minimalistic, but full of life. Damian didn’t feel cooped up in here like he did in Bruce’s office that had a much darker color palette.

“Just Todd being his usual irritating self.”

Dick set his current stack of papers he was carrying down and excitedly started searching for something else in a file cabinet. “He’s been in a better mood since the audition we saw today just before lunch, this Ra-”

“Dick, I really don’t care to hear about it right now. From what it sounds like, she probably isn’t worth the headache she’ll give us if she’s already throwing herself at Jason.” Damian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a seat in front of the desk.

Dick straightened up, a perplexed expression resting on his face. “I wasn’t aware they knew each other, she just borrowed his jacket for the scene but he didn’t mention he knew her.”

“To be fair, I’m not sure how acquainted they currently are, but he made it clear he wanted to get more acquainted.” He scoffed.

“Well then I’m going to tell him to back off, I don’t want anything ruining the potential this girl has. I think she’s our girl. She is our sorceress!” He threw his arms dramatically into the air.

“Be reasonable, Dick. You still have more auditions for that role coming up. You were probably just hungry.”

“Maybe, but maybe not. I’m telling you, you’re going to love her. I can pull up her audition tape so you can see what I’m talking about.” Dick practically ran to his computer, typing in his password. He barely was able to hit enter when Damian snapped the laptop shut on his fingers. “Ow!”

“Not interested until you’ve seen the rest. I don’t like you making rash decisions, that’s Jason’s brand, not yours. Besides, I came here to talk about something actually important.”

“Idunno Dami, I have a feeling about this one. But I hear you and I’d hate to be rude to the people that have worked hard on their auditions and count them out just yet. So I'll finish them out and go from there. However, this is actually very important, arguably more important than what you’ve come here to discuss.This is our lead female hero, your right hand woman. She needs to be good enough to stand beside you.”

“You’re opening auditions for this massive role to anyone that can speak. I don’t know why you didn’t just go with someone we’ve worked well with before.” He crossed his arms.

Dick leaned his forearms on the desk. “ Like who? You’ve berated me for anyone I’ve ever suggested. Besides, how are we gonna evolve as an industry if we keep using the same handful of actors, it gets boring. I want fresh talent, and the chance to give someone their big break!”

“How charitable. I haven’t hated everyone you’ve said. Brown was okay to work with.” Damian huffed.

“Stephanie is not the right fit for this role, the Sorceress is dark, mysterious, temperamental. Steph plays the girl next door, happy go lucky type. Plus she hates you.”

Damian shrugged “True.” He always had a hard time with his female co-stars, either they were hired because they were pretty but couldn’t act their way out of a paper bag or they wanted to start a relationship with him to increase buzz surrounding the movie. He tried that once with Emiko Queen and after the movie premiered, just as he was coming around to it being a real relationship, she breaks it off right before announcing her next movie. He felt used and she somehow spun the tale to make him out to be the bad guy, and with his record, it wasn’t hard to sell. He swore that he’d never do that again, or even date co-stars in general.

He’d done a pretty good job of making it clear from the beginning, but some leading ladies still tried, thinking they could change his mind. They never did.

“Anyway, if you came here to appeal the press release date change, I’m sorry but there’s nothing we can do about it.” Dick opened his laptop once more and typed something.

“You don’t understand how bad this is going to make me look to the Gazette, and if they mention it to anyone else, it’ll be even worse. If this is because you guys are afraid about what I-” Damian was leaning forward in his chair, his voice raising just a little.

“Damian, stop. Everything will be fine. We wanted to wait until your costume fitting so we can send some pictures with the announcement so people see this is happening and real and that we stand behind you fully. Bruce explained everything to the editor-in-chief and told them how much the pictures were going to enhance the story and they agreed. Plus with first look photos of the costumes, all the blogs are going to be jumping on the news and spreading it. By Saturday, everyone will know you’re heading my movie!”

“But won’t this put us behind schedule for the press tour?”

“Not at all, I didn’t schedule your first talk show until the following week as a precaution if we didn’t gather much wave of media presence. But I now worry we’re going to cut our impression short with the new stuff you'll be talking about." He was now reclined back in his seat, hands folded in his lap.

Damian wanted to argue, but it did all make sense. "And the other cast announcements?"

"All will be released in due time. I'll probably save the Sorceress announcement until last though, really build up speculation and buzz."

"Not to mention drama." Damian muttered.

"Hey, drama isn't all that bad when it's speculation." Dick retorted, pointing at him.

“This feels like the ‘no such thing as bad publicity’ excuse. And that always goes horribly wrong.” He crossed his arms, slouching a touch into the chair.

“That’s because it kinda is Dami boy. Except it’s truly not bad publicity, sure some people will get disheartened that it’s not their pick, but we’re working with entirely original material, no fanboys to worry about.” Dick seemed way too relaxed for a director releasing what is thought to be the biggest movie of the decade.

“You still seem to be grossly overestimating the weight of the news about the Sorceress.” Damian stood from his chair and did his best to brush the wrinkles from his suit.

“And you seem to be a misogynist that doesn’t think his female co-star is as important as him!” Dick said firmly as he stood as well, palms on his desk with his body leaning towards the accused.

Damian sputtered his words, his eyes darting for anything to come to his mind right now. “I am not a misogynist! I just think that after my announcement, everyone else is gonna hold the same weight.” He settled his hands on his hips to help him look confident in his statement, but Dick could see right through it and Damian knew it.

“Admit that you’re scared some relatively unknown actress is gonna steal your limelight.”

“That’s not it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah…” Damian watched as Dick slowly sat back down, a calm smile on his face as he rested his right ankle on the knee of his other leg and folded his fingers in his lap. “Ok, maybe I think that we are putting too much stock in the idea, but maybe I’m worried that my chance to change the public's opinion of me is going to be overshadowed, especially with how big you’re acting like it’s going to be!”

“Let it out, Dami. We can’t ease your mind if we don’t know what’s going on inside of it. Look, I know that the press has been up your ass since the Emiko incident. But anyone that’s worth anything knows the truth and will not hire her ever again. But if our sorceress is the next big thing, it may not hurt for her to like you…not in any sort of romantic way. Lord knows we won’t push that angle again, but literally just think you are a decent guy.” Damian scowled at his older brother implying the task for the new girl to be difficult. “Then, if she does reach mega popularity as we hope, then she’ll be willing to do interviews with you and about you and then everyone can see how…charming you really are.”

“I see you and your committee have put a lot of thought into this. It would be foolish to not give your theory at least a small glimmer of a chance.” Damian pulled away from the desk and headed toward the door. He turned ¾ of the way back to Dick, “But she has to be tolerable too, I won’t fake liking someone just because it’ll be good press, someone will notice eventually and then it’ll blow up in your face.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way Damian. Now I’ll see you Wednesday for a moment to check on your costume, but we’ll really touch base again on Friday. Have a great rest of your day Dami.”

Damian nodded in response, closing the door behind but watching Dick’s annoying cheery smile disappear behind the door. He really hoped that they cast this role well because it’ll either be hell or the best thing to happen to him in a while.

#raven #teen titans #raven roth #robrae #damian wayne #damirae #jayrae #dc fanfic #hollywood au

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louisupdates · 11 months

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Louis Tomlinson Gives Rockstar Performance At Forest Hills Stadium

August 03, 2023 | BY KYLE STEVENS

Photos Courtesy of Kyle Stevens

Fans at Forest Hills Stadium couldn’t help themselves when they got the opportunity to get up close and personal with singer and heartthrob Louis Tomlinson on Saturday, July 29. Andrew Cushin and Giant Rooks opened for Tomlinson with dynamic performances that set the tone for the rest of the evening.

The former One Direction star created quite the stir when he took the stage in Queens for the last stop on the current leg of his ‘Faith In The Future World Tour.’ Tomlinson made a grand entrance rocking a black tank top and stunner shades after the rain came drizzling down right before he was about to go on. Luckily, the weather cleared up just in time and the English songwriter proceeded to sing hits from his latest solo album that dropped back on November 11 last year.

Performing “High in California,” “She is a Beauty We Are World Class,” and “Out of My System,” Tomlinson had his passionate fan base holler and shriek throughout his entire set. Tomlinson’s magnetic energy made the atmosphere so sweltering that he had to pause in the middle of “All This Time” to help a fan who needed assistance in the crowd.

Staying true to his roots by not forgetting where he came from, Tomlinson also performed 1D megahits “Night Changes” and “Where Do Broken Hearts Go.” He also paid homage to English rock band Arctic Monkeys by singing the moody “505.” (The Arctic Monkeys will also roll through the area on September 8 and 9 for a highly anticipated tour of their own.)

Stacked Sandwich Shop (68-60 Austin St, Queens, NY 11375) made sure to keep the hungry stadium crowd properly nourished throughout the evening with delicious, jumbo-size Philly Cheesesteaks that had to be seen to be believed. Owner Danny Azzo was on hand with new menu items to feed into the excitement that Louis created.

“We recently introduced Mozzarella Sticks and Fries. It’s a hit,” Azzo said in an interview with the Queens Gazette. “We don’t do that in the shop because we traditionally make sandwiches, but that’s been really good for us, as is the cheesesteak. Our usual popular items include the Turkey Sandwiches.”

Before the night wrapped up, fans who were lucky enough to be near the barricade got the rare opportunity to touch their charismatic idol during the song “Silver Tongues.” Always a gentleman, Tomlinson happily greeted his supporters with a wide smile. Attendees in the front row lost control and proceeded to tear away at Tomlinson’s tank top in a frenzied scene that was reminiscent of the peak of Beatlemania during the 1960s.

Tomlinson proudly soaked up the moment like only a true rockstar could, and performed the rest of his concert shirtless. Unsurprisingly, fans in Queens were quite content with that particular parting visual. The “Bigger Than Me” singer will pick up his tour again on August 29 when he goes overseas to play at Barclays Arena in Hamburg, Germany. Tickets are on sale now for those who want to take an adventurous, fly away holiday.

Louis Tomlinson wrapped up the current leg of his tour at Forest Hills Stadium on Saturday. The singer was seen wearing a black tank top and sunglasses.

Tomlinson made the crowd light up with delight whenever he was near the mic.The English dreamboat soaked in the unforgettable Queens atmosphere.

#fitfwt23: new york #louis tomlinson #louis press #29.7.2023 #4.8.2023

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aemiron-main · 1 year

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the weird creel timelines- an initial post (if you’re wondering what all the timeline talk is about lately, read this)

Alright, so, I started this post a few weeks ago but didn’t finish it until now, and it was originally a reblog on this post from @bylerschmyler and basically this is where all the timeline stuff with the Creels that I’ve been talking about lately originated from (and what @henrysglock and I have been ranting about.)

This is not the full Creel timeline analysis, just the initial post, and because it’s fairly old at this point, there’s more I’ve come up with that adds to it. I’m currently working on putting together the full timeline analysis. But, for now, let’s get into that intial post:

So, part of this depends on whether or not you believe in the 8flix scripts (personally I think they’re completely real and that there’s firm evidence to back this up), but I still have the scripts in my email, so I went and took a look at the “Dear Billy,” script. And I found some weird things. And then I went and looked at the newspaper articles again- and I found even more weird things.

First of all, it’s weird that the Creels are said to be moving into the house in March of 1959- the exact same year and month that the Creel murders are said to have occurred in the show/in the newspaper, which makes it seem like they only lived there for a month.

Second of all, in the script, Alice and Virginia are briefly swapped. We'll come back to this later. Victor puts his arm around “Alice,” rather than Virginia.

As well, as mentioned earlier, the murders are listed as occurring on March 25th 1959, but as I mentioned in this post, that’s extremely different than what the Indianapolis Gazette says.

March 25th 1959 was a Wednesday. Meanwhile, in the Indianapolis Gazette, the Creel murders are said to have happened on Saturday, March 21st and the bodies were discovered on Sunday, March 22nd when Victor was found wandering along the side of the road and escorted back home by Hawkins Police officers.

So, the dates listed here are directly contradictory to some of the newspaper articles in the show, something I'm going to really dive into here in a bit.

I talked in another post about the fact that it’s extremely likely that the lab altered Victor’s memories- and now Victor’s “one month of peace,” comment is looking even more suspicious because according to the script, the Creels moved into the house in March of 1959, but then the murders, according to the script, occurred on March 25th 1959, and Victor was in prison in early April of 1959.

I think that Victor, as of 1986, might legitimately believe that they only lived there for a month. This would track with the lab having messed with his memories, and it would explain why SO many details that are in the newspapers (such as Victor calling an exorcist) are absent from his retelling. However, like I’m going to dig into, I also think that there’s timeline weirdness at play here, and I think that “timeline weirdness” and “Victor’s memories have been messed with can coexist, especially since (and this is going to make no sense rn but will later in this analysis), it Might imply that the “Dear Billy” script timeline and the Weekly Watcher timeline are the same timeline, but the Dear Billy timeline is warped by Victor’s messy memories. However, this is something I’m still not certain of, so take it with a grain of salt.

And regarding the newspapers vs the scripts, I know there’s been lots of talk of Henry’s age and Alice’s age, but what about Victor’s age?

The “Dear Billy,” script puts his age being 40 in 1959 and 67 in 1986.

Now, look at this newspaper clipping from the Indianapolis Gazette:

Victor is listed as being 35 years old as of 1959.

“The bodies of 3 persons have been found inside the home of a 35-year-old Town of Hawkins Roane County family man.”

This same paper also talks about Victor serving two tours in WW2.

“A veteran from the second world war, Victor Creel served two tours of duty in Europe and returned home a hero.”

It’s also the same paper that talks about the Creels living in Hawkins for two years.

"Here is the house in which the Creels lived for the last two years where-"

It’s ALSO the SAME paper that mentions “Edward Creel,” and names Alice as Victor’s wife and Virginia as his daughter.

“-authorities found the remains of Alice, Edward, and Virginia Creel- Victor Creel’s wife, son, and daughter.”

Virginia is also listed as one of the children earlier in the article, and there’s no Henry in this article, only Edward.

"The mangled and eyeless bodies of the two young children- Virginia and Edward- laid deflated and bent on the floor of the foyer."

And this is ALSO the same paper that claims that Alice, Henry (named as Edward in this article, the name ‘Henry,’ does not appear in this article at ALL), AND Virginia were all found dead in the foyer- Virginia wasn’t at the table, according to this article.

"Law enforcement officers searching Sunday Morning for signs of foul play found the bodies of Virginia Creel, Edward Creel, and Alice Creel strewn about the foyers of the house, six miles from downtown Hawkins."

However, possibly contrary to the above, the same article lists only Henry/Edward and Virginia (who is listed as Victor's daughter) as being in the foyer, and makes no mention of where "Mrs Creel's" body was found, and instead, just talks about her body being butchered like a deer.

“The eyeless, mutilated dead body of Ms Creel “butchered like you would clean a deer,” (???) to one law enforcement (???)”

So, let’s regroup- how many possible timelines do we have based on the show, the scripts, and the newspapers? First, let's look at some key information/our sources.

Looking At Individual Sources

The Indianapolis Gazette

According to the Indiapolis Gazette:

Victor was 35 in 1959. This would make him born in 1921.

The murders occured Saturday night on March 21st 1959

The Creels lived in Hawkins for two years/moved to Hawkins two years prior to 1959, putting their move-in date as 1957.

There is nobody named "Henry Creel" in this article. Only "Edward Creel."

No ages are listed for Alice, Henry/Edward, or Virginia.

Alice is listed as Victor's wife repeatedly, and Virginia is listed as his daughter repeatedly. Edward is listed as Victor's son. Henry does not exist.

Victor did two tours in Europe during the war and was a war hero. I'm not 100% sure how long a tour is, but doing a quick bit of research, a tour in WW2 seems to have been 365 days/a year, meaning that Victor was at war for 2 years. There is no return from war date listed for Victor, nor is it listed when he was at war, simply that he was at war for two years.

This newspaper is listed as being published on Thursday, March 26th, 1959.

The Weekly Watcher

According to the Weekly Watcher:

Victor is listed as being 40 in 1959. This would make him born in 1919.

The Weekly Watcher makes no clear note of what date the murders happened on.

The Weekly Watcher makes no clear note of how long the Creels lived in Hawkins, and also does not make any clear note of when they moved to Hawkins. However, there's details such as the groundsperson and the gardener working at the Creel house that seem to indicate that they lived there for a fair while.

Henry is present in this article. There is no "Edward Creel" in this article.

Alice is listed as being 15 in 1959, Henry is listed as being 12 in 1959, and Virginia is listed as being 36 in 1959.

Virginia is listed as Victor's wife, and Henry and Alice are listed as Victor's two children.

There is no mention of how long Victor was in the war, nor is it mentioned when he was in the war nor is a return from war date mentioned for Victor.

This newspaper is listed as being published on March 26th, 1959.

8flix Dear Billy Script

According to the Dear Billy script:

Victor is listed as being 40 in 1959 and 67 in 1986. This would make him born in 1919.

The murders occured on March 25th, 1959.

The Creels lived in Hawkins for under a month and moved into the house in March of 1959. Although there's an exact day for the murders, the exact day for the move-in is suspiciously absent.

Henry is present in the script. There is no "Edward Creel," in this script.

Alice is listed as being 15 in 1959, Henry is listed as being 12 in 1959, and Virginia is listed as being 36 in 1959.

Virginia is listed as Victor's wife and Henry and Alice are listed as Victor's two children. However, this is later contradicted when Alice is swapped for Virginia during scenes/lines during the moving in segment, but they are not swapped for the entire script.

Victor was in France in 1944 but had also been back from the war for 14 years as of 1959. This would put him as returning from the war in 1945. However, it does not mention how long Victor was at war.

This is a script and doesn't have a publication date like the newspapers do.

Comparing Sources

So, what information can we pull from all this? Let's compare all of our sources and see

A.) what information do they have in common?

B.) what information is different?

C.) what information is missing entirely?

Let's start with A.)

A.) What Do All of These Sources Have in Common?

Weekly Watcher and Indianapolis Gazette Similarities

The Weekly Watcher does not mention a return from war date for Victor. The Indianapolis Gazette also does not mention a return from war date for Victor.

Weekly Watcher and Dear Billy Script Similarities

The Weekly Watcher lists Victor as 40 years old in 1959. The Dear Billy script lists Victor as 40 years old in 1959. Both of these would make Victor born in 1919.

The Weekly Watcher does not mention Edward Creel and does mention Henry Creel. The Dear Billy script does not mention Edward Creel and does mention Henry Creel.

The Weekly Watcher lists Alice is as being 15 in 1959, Henry is listed as being 12 in 1959, and Virginia is listed as being 36 in 1959. The Dear Billy script lists Alice as being 15 in 1959, Henry is listed as being 12 in 1959, and Virginia is listed as being 36 in 1959.

The Weekly Watcher lists Virginia as Victor's wife, and Henry and Alice are listed as Victor's two children. The Dear Billy script lists Virginia as Victor's wife and Henry and Alice are listed as Victor's two children. HOWEVER, this is ALSO a difference because the Dear Billy script ALSO briefly swaps Alice and Virginia.

The Weekly Watcher does not list how long Victor was at war for. The Dear Billy script also does not list how long Victor was at war for.

Indianapolis Gazette and Dear Billy Script Similarities

The Indianapolis Gazette lists Alice as Victor's wife and Virginia as Victor's daughter, swapping them. The Dear Billy script also briefly swaps them, although it ALSO lists them properly/Alice as the daughter and Virginia as the wife.

Similarities Between All Three Sources

Based on the list of criteria I've been using throughout, there are no similarities that are the same between all three sources except for the murders happening in 1959, which is a given and isn't part of the criteria.

B.) What Is Different Between All These Sources?

Weekly Watcher and Indianapolis Gazette Differences

The Weekly Watcher lists Victor as 40 years old in 1959, whereas the Indianapolis Gazette lists Victor as 35 years old in 1959.

The Weekly Watcher mentions Henry Creel, whereas the Indianapolis Gazette mentions Edward Creel

The Weekly Watcher lists Henry as 12 in 1959, Alice’s age as 15 in 1959. and Virginia’s age as 36 in 1959. The Indianapolis Gazette does not list the ages of Edward, Alice or Virginia.

In the Weekly Watcher, the date of the Creel murders is not listed, at least not from what’s visible in this article. In the Indianapolis Gazette, the date of the Creel murders is Saturday, March 21st, 1959.

In the Weekly Watcher, the length of time that the Creels lived in Hawkins is not listed from what we can see in this article, however, information regarding the exorcism and the groundskeeper and gardener seems to imply that the Creels lived in Hawkins for at least some sizeable length of time. In the Indianapolis Gazette, the Creels lived in Hawkins for two years prior to 1959.

In the Weekly Watcher, the Creels’ move-in date is not listed, at least not from what’s visible in this article. IIn the Indianapolis Gazette, no move-in month or day is listed, but they moved to Hawkins in 1957.

In the Weekly Watcher, Alice is Victor’s daughter and Virginia is Victor’s wife. In the Indianapolis Gazette, Alice is Victor’s wife, and Virginia is Victor’s daughter.

In the Weekly Watcher, the length of time that Victor was at war is not mentioned. In the Indianapolis Gzette, Victor was at war for two tours, seemingly two years.

Weekly Watcher and Dear Billy Script Differences

The Weekly Watcher does not list the date of the Creel murders, whereas the Dear Billy script lists their date as March 25th, 1959.

The Weekly Watcher does not list the Creel’s move-in date, at least not from what’s visible in this article. In the Dear Billy script, the Creels moved to Hawkins in March of 1959. The exact day is not listed.

In the Weekly Watcher, the length of time that the Creels lived in Hawkins is not listed from what we can see in this article, however, information regarding the exorcism and the groundskeeper and gardener seems to imply that the Creels lived in Hawkins for at least some sizeable length of time. In the Dear Billy script, the Creels lived in Hawkins for under a month, moving to Hawkins in March of 1959 and the murders also occurring in March of 1959.

In the Weekly Watcher, it is unknown when Victor went to war. In the Dear Billy script, Victor was at war during 1944.

In the Weekly Watcher, it is unknown when Victor returned from war. In the Dear Billy script, Victor seems to have returned from war in 1945, as in the script in 1959, he mentions being home from the war for 14 years.

Indianapolis Gazette and Dear Billy Script Differences

The Indianapolis Gazette lists Victor as 35 years old in 1959, wheraas the Dear Billy script has him as 40 years old in 1959.

The Indianapolis Gazette mentions Edward Creel, whereas the Dear Billy script mentions Henry Creel.

The Indianapolis Gazette does not list the ages of Edward, Alice or Virginia. The Dear Billy script presents that Henry is 12 as of 1959, Alice is 15 as of 1959, and Virginia is 36 as of 1959.

The Indianapolis Gazette says that the Creels moved to Hawkins in 1957, whereas the Dear Billy script has them moving to Hawkins in March of 1959.

The Indianapolis Gazette says that the Creels lived in Hawkins for two years. The Dear Billy script says that the Creels lived in Hawkins for under a month, moving to Hawkins in March of 1959 and the murders also occurring in March of 1959.

In the Indianapolis Gazette, Alice is Victor’s wife, and Virginia is his daughter. In the Dear Billy script, Alice is Victor’s daughter, and Virginia is his wife, HOWEVER, they DO swap places briefly in the Dear Billy script.

In the Indianapolis Gazette, Victor was at war for two turns. The Dear Billy script does not list how long Victor was at war for.

The Indianapolis Gazette does not say when Victor was at war. The Dear Billy script says that he was at Normandy in 1944

The Indianapolis Gazette does not say when Victor returned home from war. The Dear Billy script says that Victor seems to have returned from war in 1945, as in the script in 1959, he mentions being home from the war for 14 years.

C.) What Information is Missing?

What's Missing from the Weekly Watcher?

The date of the murders

The date that the Creels moved to Hawkins and exactly how long they liived in Hawkins.

How long Victor was in the war

When Victor was in the war

When Victor returned from war

What's Missing from the Indianapolis Gazette?

Alice’s age, Virginia’s age, and Henry/Edward’s age

When Victor was in the war.

When Victor returned from war.

What's Missing from the Dear Billy Script?

The exact day that the Creel family moved to Hawkins.

How long Victor was at war.

Summarizing The Similarities and Differences And Doing A Category-By-Category Comparison

To summarize the similarties and differences between the sources and the missing info, let’s go category-by-category rather than source-by-source to make it clearer:

Category 1: Victor’s Age and Birth Year

Indianapolis Gazette: As of 1959, Victor’s age is 35, making his birth year 1924.

Weekly Watcher: As of 1959, Victor’s Age is 40, making his birth year 1919.

Dear Billy Script: As of 1959, Victor’s age is 40, making his birth year 1919.

TLDR: Victor’s age is the same between the Weekly Watcher and Dear Billy but confirmed to be different in the Gazette.

Category 2: Date of the Creel Murders

Indianapolis Gazette: The date of the Creel murders is Saturday, March 21st, 1959.

Weekly Watcher: The date of the Creel murders is not listed, at least not from what’s visible in this article.

Dear Billy Script: The date of the Creel Murders is Wednesday, March 25th, 1959.

This isn’t technically the same between all of them, but it’s also not different between all of them because the Weekly Watcher is simply unknown, not confirmed as a separate third date.

TLDR: The date of the Creel Murders is different between the Indianapolis Gazette and Dear Billy script, and unconfirmed in the Weekly Watcher.

Category 3: Creel Move-In Date

Indianapolis Gazette: The Creels moved to Hawkins in 1957, day and month unknown.

Weekly Watcher: The Creels’ move-in date is not listed, at least not from what’s visible in this article.

Dear Billy Script: The Creels moved to Hawkins in March of 1959. The exact day is not listed.

Just like the murder date, this isn’t the same between all of them, but it’s also not technically completely different between all of them because the Weekly Watcher’s date is simply unknown, not confirmed as a separate third date. None of the sources give an exact move-in day, and only Dear Billy gives a move-in month.

TLDR: The Creels’ move-in date is different between the Indianapolis Gazette and the Dear Billy script, and unconfirmed in the Weekly Watcher.

Category 4: How Long the Creels Lived in Hawkins

Indianapolis Gazette: The Creels lived in Hawkins for two years prior to 1959.

Weekly Watcher: The length of time that the Creels lived in Hawkins is not listed from what we can see in this article, however, information regarding the exorcism and the groundskeeper and gardener seems to imply that the Creels lived in Hawkins for at least some sizeable length of time.

Dear Billy Script: The Creels lived in Hawkins for under a month, moving to Hawkins in March of 1959 and the murders also occurring in March of 1959.

Just like the murder date and move-in date, this isn’t the same between all of them, but it’s also not technically completely different between all of them because the Weekly Watcher’s length of time is simply unknown, not confirmed as a separate third option.

TLDR: The length of time that the Creels lived in Hawkins is different between the Indianapolis Gazette and Dear Billy script, but unconfirmed in the Weekly Watcher.

Category 5: Is Henry or Edward present

Indianapolis Gazette: Edward is mentioned. Henry is not mentioned.

Weekly Watcher: Henry is mentioned. Edward is not mentioned.

Dear Billy Script: Henry is mentioned. Edward is not mentioned.

TLDR: The presence of Henry is the same between the Weekly Watcher and the Dear Billy script. but confirmed to be different in the Indianapolis Gazette

Category 6: Edward/Henry’s age and Virginia and Alice’s ages

Indianapolis Gazette: Henry’s age is not listed. Virginia’s age is not listed. Alice’s age is not listed.

Weekly Watcher: Henry is 12 as of 1959. Alice is 15 as of 1959. Virginia is 36 as of 1959.

Dear Billy Script: Henry is 12 as of 1959. Alice is 15 as of 1959. Virginia is 36 as of 1959.

This is the same between the Weekly Watcher and Dear Billy. However, because we don’t know the Weekly Watcher version of the Creels’ move-in date, specifically because we don’t know the year, we don’t know if the move-in date ages are different in the Weekly Watcher vs the Dear Billy script, as the Dear Billy script has Henry moving to Hawkins in 1959 and being 12 at the time, whereas the Indianapolis Gazette has the Creels and Edward moving to Hawkins in 1957 but lists no ages. So, the ages as of 1959 are the same in the Weekly Watcher and Dear Billy, but the ages may not be the same for the move-in date.

TLDR: The ages of Henry, Virginia, and Alice are the same between the Weekly Watcher and Dear BIlly but unconfirmed in the Indianapolis Gazette. Edward’s age is never mentioned. Mom-Alice’s age is never mentioned. Sister-Virginia’s age is never mentioned.

Category 7: Who is Listed as Victor’s Wife vs Victor’s Daughter

Indianapolis Gazette: Alice is Victor’s wife and Virginia is Victor’s daughter.

Weekly Watcher: Alice is Victor’s daughter and Virginia is Victor’s wife.

Dear Billy Script: Alice is Victor’s daughter and Virginia is Victor’s wife.

TLDR: Victor’s wife and daughter are same between the Weekly Watcher and the Dear Billy script and confirmed to be different in the Indianapolis Gazette. HOWEVER, as mentioned earlier, the Dear Billy script also briefly swaps Virginia and Alice.

Category 8: How Long Was Victor At War?

Indianapolis Gazette: Victor was at war for two tours, seemingly two years.

Weekly Watcher: The length of time that Victor was at war is not mentioned

Dear Billy Script: The length of time that Victor was at war is not mentioned.

TLDR: This is unconfirmed in the Weekly Watcher and the Dear Billy script.

Category 9: When Was Victor At War?

Indianapolis Gazette: A date for Victor being at war is not outright confirmed AND Victor’s “I had been back from the war for 14 years” line is not present here (because it’s a newspaper), so, IF we apply that line here, he would’ve been at war in 1943 because in the Gazette timeline, the Creels moved to Hawkins in 1957, and 14 years prior to that would be 1943. However, because that line is not present in this source, we don’t know for sure if Victor had been home from the war for 14 years when moving to Hawkins in this timeline.

Weekly Watcher: There is no listed date for when Victor was at war.

Dear Billy Script: Victor was at war during 1944.

This is the same between the Indianapolis Gazette and the Weekly Watcher in the sense that neither has a confirmed date for when Victor was in the war, but the Gazette offers more insight than the Watcher does IF we apply info from other sources (Victor’s “14 years” line), because the Gazette gives us a move-in date whereas the Weekly Watcher does not.

However, both the Gazette and the Watcher technically don’t have confirmed dates for when Victor was in the war.

TLDR: When Victor was at war is unconfirmed in the Indianapolis Gazette and the Weekly Watcher and is confirmed in the Dear Billy script.

Category 10: When Did Victor Return From War?

Indianapolis Gazette: When Victor returned from the war is much like “when was Victor at war” when it comes to this source, because a date for Victor returning from war is not outright confirmed in the Gazette AND Victor’s “I had been back from the war for 14 years” line is not present here (because it’s a newspaper), so, IF we apply that line here, he would’ve returned from war in 1943 because in the Gazette timeline, the Creels moved to Hawkins in 1957, and 14 years prior to that would be 1943. However, because that line is not present in this source, we don’t know for sure if Victor had been home from the war for 14 years when moving to Hawkins in this timeline.

Weekly Watcher: There is no date for when Victor returned from the war.

Dear Billy Script: Victor seems to have returned from war in 1945, as in the script in 1959, he mentions being home from the war for 14 years.

This is the same between the Indianapolis Gazette and the Weekly Watcher in the sense that neither has a confirmed date for when Victor returned from the war war, but the Gazette offers more insight than the Watcher does IF we apply info from other sources (Victor’s “14 years” line), because the Gazette gives us a move-in date whereas the Weekly Watcher does not.

However, both the Gazette and the Watcher technically don’t have confirmed dates for when Victor returned from the war.

TLDR: When Victor returned from the war is unconfirmed in the Indianapolis Gazette and the Weekly Watcher but is confirmed in the Dear Billy script.

List of Current Possible Timelines

So, finally, here's a list of the initial possible timelines, based on what we know for certain from each source (again this is going to change and expand when I finish the main timeline analysis):

1.) The Dear Billy Script Timeline

Victor was 40 in 1959 and 40 when they moved to Hawkins.

The Creels lived in Hawkins for a month and moved there in March of 1959.

The murders occurred on Wednesday March 25th, 1959.

Alice was 15 in 1959 and 15 when they moved to Hawkins.

Henry was 12 in 1959 and 12 when they moved to Hawkins.

Virginia was 36 in 1959 and 36 when they moved to Hawkins.

There is no mention of Edward.

Victor got home from the war in 1945.

Victor was in Normandy/at war in 1944.

We don’t know how long Victor was at war/how long he served.

Victor messed up in France/Normandy and made the mistake of bombing civillians.

Virginia is Victor’s wife and Alice is Victor’s daughter, although this briefly swaps for one scene in the script.

Alice, being 15 in 1959, was born in 1944, a year before Victor even got home from the war. However, if Victor went to war in 1943, then Alice could’ve been conceived before he left, depending on when Victor went to war and what exact day Alice’s birthday was. However, in this source, we don’t know when Victor went to war.

Henry, being 12 in 1959, was born in 1947, two years after Victor got home from the war.

2.) The Indianapolis Gazette Timeline

Victor was 35 in 1959

The Creels lived in Hawkins for two years and moved there in 1957.

The murders occurred on on Saturday, March 21st 1959.

We don’t know how old Alice was in 1959, nor how old she was when they moved to Hawkins because even though we know when they moved to Hawkins, we don’t know how old Alice was in 1959 in this source.

We don’t know how old Virginia was in 1959, nor how old she was when they moved to Hawkins because even though we know when they moved to Hawkins, we don’t know how old Virginia was in 1959 in this source.

We don’t know how old Henry/Edward was in 1959, nor how old he was when they moved to Hawkins because even though we know when they moved to Hawkins, we don’t know how old Henry/Edward was in 1959 in this source.

Henry is not mentioned at ALL in this source.

We don’t know when Victor got home from the war.

We don’t know when Victor was at war/if he was in Normandy.

Victor was at war for “two tours”/served two tours.

Victor, interestingly enough, is listed as returning home as a war hero in the Gazette, which almost seems like it may contradict his massive blunder (the farmhouse and burning baby) that’s in the Dear Billy script.

Virginia is Victor’s daughter and Alice is Victor’s wife

Because we don’t know when Edward and Daughter-Virginia/”Alice” were born, AND because we don’t know when Victor was at war or when he returned home, we can’t compare their birth years to when Victor was at war.

3.) Weekly Watcher Timeline

Victor was 40 in 1959. We don’t know how old he was when they moved to Hawkins because we don’t know when they moved to Hawkins/how long they lived there.

We don’t know how long the Creels lived in Hawkins, nor do we know when they moved to Hawkins.

Alice was 15 in 1959, but we don’t know how old she was when they moved to Hawkins because we don’t know when they moved to Hawkins/how long they lived there.

Henry was 12 in 1959, but we don’t know how old he was when they moved to Hawkins because we don’t know when they moved to Hawkins/how long they lived there.

Virginia was 36 in 1959, but we don’t know how old she was when they moved to Hawkins because we don’t know when they moved to Hawkins/how long they lived there.

Edward is not mentioned at all.

We don’t know when Victor got home from the war.

We don’t know when Victor was at war/if he was in Normandy.

We don’t know when Victor returned from war.

Victor is not listed as a war hero, but his blunder in Normandy with the farmhouse/burning baby is also not mentioned. In fact, from what we can see of this article, Victor’s time in the war is simply not mentioned at all (granted there are two intro paragraphs that are too blurry to read).

Virginia is Victor’s wife and Alice is Victor’s daughter.

We know that Alice would’ve been born in 1944 in this timeline (as she was 15 in 1959) and that Henry would’ve been born in 1947 (as he was 12 in 1959), but we can’t compare that to when Victor was at war because we don’t know when Victor was at war, how long he was at war, OR when he returned home.

Normandy

This is where it ties into what bylerschmyler said in the post I linked in the very beginning, because if Victor came home from the war in 1943, how the hell was he in Normandy?

Like, Victor returning from the war in 1943 is reasonable enough on its own, as WW2 started in 1939, and so even when considering that Victor served “two tours,”/possibly two years in the war in the Indianapolis Gazette timeline, he could easily have returned home in 1943 if he went off to war in 1941. But that doesn’t solve the Normandy problem, because a.) in the Dear Billy script, Victor’s time in Normandy is listed as 1944 and b.) that sort of conflict, as far as I can tell, wasn’t happening in Normandy with the USA in 1943. But what if we take the idea of “Victor being at war in 1943,” and combine that with the fact that the Weekly Watcher makes no mention of Victor as a war hero, but also doesn’t mention his mistake in Normandy? Almost like Victor wasn’t in Normandy at all, which solves the problem of Normandy and 1943. However, it’s also worth keeping in mind that Victor’s time in the war, as far as I can tell, doesn’t seem to be mentioned in the Weekly Watcher at ALL. So, what if there’s one timeline where Victor returned home disgraced (Dear Billy script), one where he was a war hero (Indianapolis Gazette), and one where he was never at war (Weekly Watcher)? This would also track with the fact that the Indianapolis Gazette timeline doesn’t tell us when Victor was at war (just that he served two tours at some point)- meaning that he may not have been in Normandy in 1944, at all, meaning that his mistake with the farmhouse may not have happened, allowing him to return home a hero. Which, that’s interesting to me, because Victor’s war trauma/mistake is implied to be something that Henry seemed rather upset about (assuming that Henry was even the one showing Victor the vision during the cradle scene, and assuming that the thing that made Victor Not a “good, normal person,” was his war mistake), so I wonder if it’s the sort of thing he’d try to erase by turning back time? By either making his father a hero or not making him go to war at all?

The Massacre at Hawkins Lab Script

Also, all of this gets even WEIRDER when we look at the “Massacre at Hawkins Lab,” script, which is NOT from 8flix and was released by ST production. It gets even weirder because there’s not a single date to be found when it comes to the Creel murders. At all. None.

There’s no move-in date.

There’s no date for the murders.

Nothing.

What the hell is going on here? IMO, this has Hawkins Lab and memory fuckery written all over it AND timeline fuckery most of all, especially since we still don’t know what Young Henry was doing with that clock.

And speaking of that clock scene- remember how I mentioned earlier that Alice and Virginia got swapped during part of the move-in scene in the Dear Billy script (and are also swapped in the Indianapolis Gazette article)? Well, they're not the only ones who got swapped in the script:

"Young Victor" walks over to the grandfather clock in the script, despite the fact that we see Young Henry walk over to it in the show. If it was just this error, I would dismiss it as an unintentional typo, but considering how Alice and Virginia swap places not only in the script, but also in the Indianapolis Gazette article, and how Henry isn't even present in that article, I'm not so sure about dismissing it as a simple error anymore.

Especially considering the theme of swapping places in ST with "Running Up That Hill," and also the fact that the scene of Henry staring at the clock has a really interesting shot setup. It's interesting because we never see through Nancy's eyes in this scene. They've put Nancy into this scene to give us an extra POV, and yet, we don't see through her eyes at all in this part. Was she even seeing Henry? Or was she seeing somebody else? Victor, perhaps?

I don’t think it was particularly likely that she was actually seeing Victor, but it’s definitely suspicious to me that they’ve kept Nancy’s POV from us during the same scene where, in the script, Victor and Henry are swapped. We see Nancy herself in this scene, but we don’t see through her eyes. We do see through Young Henry’s eyes in this scene, but interestingly enough, we don’t see Nancy at all when we see through Young Henry’s eyes (which would make sense because she’s a ghost in these flashbacks, but also presents the idea of whether or not we’re seeing a different scene entirely when we look through Young Henry’s eyes.) Like, look at the shot where the clock starts spinning- that’s technically not through Nancy’s eyes. That’s through Henry’s eyes. We don’t ever see the clock spinning in the same shot as Nancy.

We don’t know if Nancy saw the clock spinning- so I’m not saying that Victor has powers and was spinning the clock, I’m saying that I wonder if the audience got to see the scene of Henry spinning the clock backwards, whereas Nancy was seeing something totally different (perhaps, Victor, wondering why the hell is his clock’s been turned backwards). Victor, who may have been angered that the “demon,” in his house was continuing to mess with his family by messing with the clock.

Admittedly, this last bit is more speculation than anything, but at the very least, the “Henry and Victor swapping places in the Massacre at Hawkins Lab script,” part of it is interesting considering that Alice and Virginia swapped places in the Dear Billy script, AND that Alice and Virginia swapped roles/places in the Indianapolis Gazette article. And even though we have that Henry 1979 voiceover, it’s worth keeping in mind that the voiceover actually reinforces the idea that Nancy may be seeing something different- because the voiceover is happening in 1979 and Nancy isn’t hearing it, only the audience is, so it’s being used to manipulate the audience (likely manipulate them into believing that Nancy’s seeing what we’re seeing, despite the fact that the use of Nancy POV shots vs Nancy face shots contradicts that idea, like I talked about in this post and this post). And there’s also the fact that there’s certain scenes and flashbacks that play during the Massacre at Hawkins Lab sequence that aren’t seeing by Nancy. Scenes like this one (No Nancy visible And doesn’t seem to be through her eyes, And she was supposedly downstairs seeing Henry at the dinner table when this scene played):

And scenes like this one, that are possibly flashbacks from Henry’s own mind/what would’ve been flashing through his mind in 1979 (this scene just shows up on screen when 1979 lab Henry is ranting about “they presented themselves as good, normal, people”:

So, I wonder if some of the clock shots are the same, especially ones that are through Henry’s eyes- shots that Nancy didn’t see because they’re only being shown to the audience/possibly as part of Henry 1979 actual flashbacks that he would’ve been having in 1979 while monologuing. And the Victor-Henry swap in the Massacre at Hawkins Lab script just generally haunts me because we also have a Alice-Virginia swap in the Indianapolis Gazette *and* in the Dear Billy script, and I’m wondering if Victor swapped with Henry, or if he swapped with Edward, and the script swap is a nod to Victor and Edward swapping places in their family dynamic like Alice and Virginia did in the Edward timeline.

#stranger things #henry creel #st analysis #st creel timeline weirdness #st timeline theory

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burialapplicant · 3 months

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Hello!

This is incredibly long overdue. burialapplicant is on a indefinite hiatus.

I do think about this blog time to time, so even if no one sees this I felt it would be best to share for my own peace of mind.

I began this blog in the midst of the pandemic, my love for the GazettE had grown tremendously over a few months from staying cooped up inside. I felt compelled to express it in some way and perhaps even as a way to give back to their long-time dedicated fans.

The support and engagement the blog garnered right away pushed me to work harder, studying Japanese more and compiling content from every corner of the internet day and night. Eternally grateful to the fans who spend their time and money to provide scans and DVD/CD rips.

Life picked back up not long after. Despite my best efforts, I was unable to prioritize updating. Though I'm not giving up.

Whenever the band may release the next new album or announce a world tour, I'll do my best to come back and provide translations and updates.

Until then, I hope my blog (though not entirely complete) can serve a purpose.

Thank you :)

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j0kers-light · 2 years

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His Lighthouse: To Be Found (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

To Be Found

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

Its an average Thursday with Y/n struggling to ignite her writing mode. What start’s out as a normal night for Y/n, quickly turns into the worst weekend she’ll ever experience. That is... if she survives the whole ordeal.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the story!

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

It always rained in Gotham but that didn't dampen Y/n's mood. After spending majority of your life in the rain, your body simply adapted to it. An umbrella felt like an extension of your hand nowadays.

Today's forecast was a light drizzle, stuck in between being a nuisance and the beginning stages of a downpour. This was Gotham, so it leaned more towards the latter. Paired with the unbearable humidity and the constant rain, your natural hair didn't stand a chance here.

"Why did I move to Gotham?" You asked yourself wistfully.

Still inside your apartment you sighed at the wet, dreary city outside and packed your trusty umbrella into your tote bag before mentally creating an outfit geared around your rain boots.

For a lazy Thursday afternoon, things were relatively lax at your residence. Soft soul music played from your record player and you took the liberty of living alone to dance around because truly, no one was watching.

One of your giant floor length windows overlooked a nearby park a few blocks away and thankfully you had no neighbors on either side of you to witness you dancing.

You had nothing but your royalties to thank for your cozy Old Gotham apartment near Grant Park. As a matter of fact you had a clear view of it and parts of the Fashion District come night time. You loved the gothic architectural charm of Downtown mixed in with the modern restoration and because of its respectable distance away from Otisburg and Burnley.

Everywhere in Gotham was dangerous but at least you didn't sleep in Joker's playground.

GCPD and Wayne Tower were within walking distance of your apartment if need be, something that put your parent's minds at ease back in Blüdhaven and it ultimately became the final factor in renting the place. Well that plus the original claw foot bathtub but safety came first!

Just mentioning the name of your hometown made your skin crawl. You were forever grateful you escaped that God forsaken city only to land in far worse conditions, but you chose to bear it. Your dreams were limited back home. At least you had a chance to embrace them here in Gotham City.

Ever since you were a little girl the art of creating stories fascinated you. Buried deep inside your mind was the power to create different worlds for people to explore and escape to.

What started out as a simple pastime after studies grew and caught the attention of your school teacher. From there you wrote in local underwriters contests and dabbled in the underground poetry scene until you were eventually scouted out by a publisher. Three novels into an original series with a few standalone books on the side, you were quite a big deal within the YA fiction world. You got a taste of your dream and nothing would stop you.

With your recent book tour complete and the final recording for your third tv interview done, nothing was available to occupy your thoughts which meant it was fast approaching.

Writer's block. Every writer experienced it but the feeling always hit you the worst. By no means were you under a strict contract but as the months rolled by with no new book material, your manager expressed her concerns.

'You gotta give me something to work with, Y/n. I don't want your contract to lapse. Just a few pages! I'll take a novella draft at this point just.. please send me something to beta.'

You loved Cindy. She meant well and had been the person who scouted you out of Fat Joe's coffeehouse back home and took a chance with you. She saw your potential and wanted to see it flourish. Her keen editing eye and patience for your slow updates made you two the perfect team. Add in the fact she was around the same age as you and boom, everything was golden.

Who said your manager couldn't be your friend?

You didn't want to disappoint Cindy but there wasn't any creative juices flowing upstairs. You moved to Gotham to have unlimited inspiration readily available but recently, nothing jumped out at you. The absolute worst case scenario would be getting a new book idea identical to your previous work. A consumer didn't want to read the same story told twice, much less by the same author.

In time something would reach out and grab you, no need to force greatness. The Greeks Among Us came to you during a midnight stroll past the seedy GC Olympus nightclub in town and your best seller to date, Will Hunter Bill hit you in line at the butcher's market.

Your loud exclamation in the store terrified a few people but when an idea hits, you tend to get excited. You purchased your meat and jotted down the storyline on the subway ride back home. Two weeks later, Cindy got five rough draft chapters dumped on her desk with the promise of more to come.

You can't eat a steak anymore without smiling wide. That book was your David, your Mona Lisa- and you feared nothing else would top it's perfection.

You wish you could pen another bestseller! Oddly enough your thriller hit started out as a flop until a few kids online created a cult following for it and made it mainstream. The true message for the story went over so many people's heads it collected dust on local bookshelves until the Mayor's wife was spotted reading it at her hair appointment.

Before you knew it, copies were flying off the shelves and Cindy was begging you to write a sequel and boy did you deliver. Your hit series gained attention around the East coast and attracted all types of readers- even infamous ones.

The Riddler used a direct quote for one of his deadly culling game traps, giving your publisher a liability lawsuit scare.

Then Two-Face was recorded giving his split review about it. He demanded justice for the book's murderers, going on and on about how they needed to be punished and given a fair trial. They were fictional characters! These psychopaths really knew how to test your patience.

As long as people enjoyed your work that's all that mattered to you. Sure notoriety was great, the royalties were even better, but seeing a fan nose deep and distracted by your story that they couldn't spare a moment away, was worth the late nights spent toiling in front of your laptop.

It was only natural that you wanted to give the people more material to read, however you knew your writer's block was fast approaching like a freight train.

You so desperately needed a muse to fight it off. Usually a long walk through the city would spark the mood but it was too dangerous to go out on the weekends (or any day really, Gotham's crime did not rest) especially during the hours your insomnia kept you up.

You could hear your friend Barbara now. "It's far too dangerous to be walking around at night Y/n! Have you lost your mind?"

Cue you chuckling to mask your labored breathing. Of course you were out walking whenever she called. It seems she always caught you red handed.

Barbara stayed up during late hours but you knew computer analytics usually worked at night. A phone call from her at 3AM was normal. Both of you were night owls so no feelings were hurt.

"Don't worry Barbs! I'm uh.. on my way back right now. I'm walking up Hamilton street as we speak."

You heard her fingers stop typing over the phone and knew the tongue lashing was imminent. Sometimes Barbara played the part of the 'mom friend' a little too well. Your real mother would be proud of the redhead.

"Y/n. Isn't that like thirty minutes from your place?" She sighed and resumed her rhythmic tapping. "I'm gonna put a tracker on you one day."

"Haha, don't be so overprotective Mom. It's not that far!" Little did you know Barbara considered bugging your phone numerous times with a bat tracker but she respected your privacy.

Now she was regretting that decision. Maybe she could plant one on you at the next brunch you two planned. For now she would settle for keeping you on the phone until she heard your apartment keys jingle in the door. "Okay! I'm back home Barbara. Can I go now?"

You didn't mind her nightly check-ins. Barbara was good people and a very close friend within your minuscule social circle.

You didn't get out much and making friends wasn't your strongest suit but after you got lost at your own charity event (another mindless event to promote your first book in the series) and found Barbara talking with a very handsome guy in an empty corridor, the two of you instantly clicked and became fast friends.

You apologized for intruding on their moment but Barbara waved off your apology and kept it moving. She introduced you to Dick Grayson and thereafter to the savior of Gotham himself, Bruce Wayne.

Both men hid their relief when you didn't immediately worship the ground they walked on. In fact you didn't recognize their faces or make the connection as to who they were since you were far more fascinated by their matching lapel pins.

"It's Will's family crest! Where did you get these?!" You gushed, only to be startled out of your fangirl moment by Dick clearing his throat.

It jumpstarted your brain to notice your hands placement that was practically glued to Mr. Wayne's chest. From what you could feel and you felt quite a lot.. he was very buff for a rich businessman. Maybe he worked out to get the ladies? Anyways..

"Oh!" Your ears flushed red. "I'm so sorry! I'm usually not so touchy-feely with strangers. I guess I got too excited! I've seen a lot of fan merch but never one so detailed.."

"Fan merch? I don't quite follow?" He questioned.

"It's short for merchandise old man.." Dick chuckled in the background.

Barbara facepalmed and gestured your way. "Bruce, this is Y/n L/n, the author of Will Hunter Bill."

It took Bruce two seconds to process their comments before he switched into his philanthropist mode. He became the one apologizing for not recognizing you and rambled on about how much he loved your work. You mentally checked out after that.

"You.. you read my books?"

His gentle laugh was soothing but it didn't compare to his smile. No wonder so many women fell for his charms.

"Of course! The way you captured and deceived the audience for half the book only to discover that we the readers are responsible for the murders occurring in the book. It's simply genius. I encouraged all of my staff to read it in their downtime. People need to learn that their actions can influence others inadvertently, no matter how minuscule it may seem."

You soaked up his praise that day. No one summarized your book series so perfectly like Bruce did.

Cindy appeared and tried to steer you away to mingle with other potential connections and sponsors at the event but you stayed with Mr. Wayne, "Please, call me Bruce." okay.. you stayed with Bruce and Barbara, the latter whom you already exchanged numbers with.

Two hours passed and not a second of it was wasted with the deep conversation you and Bruce held.

You didn't care about how your close proximity to Bruce was perceived. You were socializing and making new friends, all while talking about your passion for writing. Let the press have a field day. You would deal with the rumors later.

The following months after the event gave you enough time to establish a close friendship with Barbara and Dick to call them on speed dial whenever. Be it a quick chat or a long conversation about absolutely nothing, they would answer but you didn't dare program Bruce's number into your phone.

It was probably his main business number he gave you but the slip of paper sat like a stone in your purse for months after the event, taunting you.

It didn't feel right calling up such a busy man just to chat. I mean.. what would you talk about besides your books? You two had nothing in common!

Barbara teased you about it every chance she got. "Bruce rarely gives out his number to people so someone made a great first impression on him."

You rolled your eyes, "Barb quit it. It's probably his work number, plus he's almost twice my age!"

You two were sitting at a local restaurant that was handicap accessible, enjoying the rare occasion both of you were free. The humidity from outside fogged up the restaurant's windows but it was pleasant inside away from the rain.

Her green eyes mimicked yours as she laughed. "Are you sure? Was the card black or slate grey?" She waited for your answer but frowned when you looked unsure. "What's wrong, you don't remember?"

"It wasn't a card Barbara. He gave me a piece of paper with a number written on it."

In total, only two minutes passed before you realized just how dumb you were. "Oh my God! Bruce Wayne gave me his personal cell number and I've been sitting on it for almost a year!"

Your loud shout gained attention from the nearby tables but so did Barbara's howling laughter.

"This isn't funny Barb!! I don't want the guy to hate me!" You whined. "Oh do you want him to like you?" She replied just as fast.

"Gah! Here you are encouraging this behavior like a devil on my shoulder! What would my mother say if she knew that Bruce Wayne, of all people, was interested in me?" You tried to explain.

"Congratulations?" Your glare only fueled her laughter.

"Oh come on he's not that old.. and age gaps are becoming more popular if you're so worried." Was she trying to convince you or herself? "Look, I've known him for years and I highly doubt he noticed your lack of response with how busy he is and if he did, so what? Just tell him the truth."

That was the point, you didn't want to accept the truth. It seemed impossible that Bruce Wayne, a successful billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist, in a league of his own, and drop dead gorgeous no matter his age, was interested in you.

Not to discredit your own success but it didn't (and would never) match Bruce's.

Despite being a popular author in your prime, until a movie producer came along your stories would be just that. Books on someone's bookshelf. Your fame would fade and so would the steady income. It was no wonder many authors never became wealthy from only their literature.

Cindy tried to get you to schmooze with some silver screen board directors at the charity event but you choose to dissect your series page by page with Bruce instead.

The way he talked about your characters and gave them more personality than you ever could had you starry eyed. You joked that he should write only to receive his deep chuckle. "I don't have the time but maybe I can commission you to pen a biography for me."

You never blushed so much before. He trusted you of all people to write something so important? Surely he was joking. You discovered while talking with Bruce that he had a good sense of humor.

You hoped your words didn't insult him. "Well I would need to study you and your life in detail to make it authentic. And no offense Mr. Wayne, but that would take quite a bit of time.. time you don't have."

He smiled at that. "That's true but," Bruce brought his glass up to his lips as if you weren't waiting for his response with bated breath. "I thought I told you to call me Bruce, Y/n."

"Oh right um B-Bruce. I'd love to write your biography but the matter of time in which to study you is still an issue."

Instincts should have warned you. Common sense all but threw it in your face but in that moment you didn't put the puzzle pieces together. Bruce liked you.

He reached out to tuck a wayward curl of hair behind your ear. His fingertips left a slight burning sensation on the curve of your ear and it made your entire body freeze up.

"Ask of me anything. I will defy my own will to grant your desires." Bruce cited with a confident grin.

"Did you just quote.." You were beyond speechless.

No one quoted The Greeks Among Us to you before. It was the second book of your oeuvre and the most neglected due to its Greek mythology and ambiguous ending. The fact he quoted it perfectly and from memory confirmed that Bruce was truly a fan of your work.

"I can make time for you, Y/n. Do you have a pen and paper?"

You nodded robotically. A writer without a pen and paper wasn't worth her salt. The tiny clutch you carried was bottomless; a sticky pad was given to Bruce along with your favorite ballpoint pen. He jotted something down and handed everything back to you while ignoring your eyebrow dipping in confusion.

"Call me whenever you're ready to begin." He was going to flirt a bit more but Dick appeared and whispered something in Bruce's ear.

From the dark look that schooled his features, whatever he was being briefed on wasn't good.

Bruce left you with a warm smile and a suggestion, more like a command, to call the night short and go home. You were tired and Cindy was busy rubbing shoulders with the stiff suits on your behalf. You weren't needed here so you took Bruce's advice and went home.

Little did you know not even five minutes after you left the party, it was robbed by local criminals looking to strike it rich. An unfortunate but normal occurrence that happens in this city. Another thing its citizens simply adapt to.

You on the other hand were still new to Gotham. Next month would be your one year anniversary of moving to this living hell. But your dreams were possible here. You could live a relatively normal life surrounded by your books. The very stack of books you almost tripped over while dancing.

You quickly corrected your balance to avoid a nasty fall and decided to stop dancing for now. Everything was all fun and games until someone got hurt.

The rain was still beating against the windows outside. During your deep reflective thoughts the rain had picked up from its light drizzle to the steady downpour you had predicted earlier.

Johnny Charisma was now crooning in your apartment and your tote bag was still lying open on the couch waiting for more items to be shoved inside.

You blinked rapidly trying to remember what you were doing before your brain went down a rabbit hole but came up short. You shook your head but in the process you spotted the breaking news banner on your tv.

It wasn't unusual for you to keep it on as you worked kinda like a much needed break for your overworked eyes.

As if the tv screen was any better than your laptop but with the tv muted your brain had space to think unrestricted. You found the tv remote and raised the volume. Immediately the news anchorwoman's voice flooded the room.

"...The Joker has once again escaped from Arkham Asylum custody and is at large at the current hour. We do not have any leads as to how he escaped the infamous island but police personnel are once again advising all citizens to shelter in place until he is arrested, effective immediately. We are uncertain of how long the curfew will last but we can confirm The Joker has killed six people during his escape. Commissioner Jim Gordon has not responded to any comments about the Asylum employee in critical condition but we will update you if he does. All of us here in Gotham expect to see Batman's signal in the sky tonight and in the many nights to come. Reporting live from GCN.."

You muted the tv coverage. Great. Just wonderful! Another curfew for the city in fear, all over a clown. When would your fellow citizens begin to see these criminals for what they truly were, normal human beings crying out for help?

Maybe because you were an optimist or perhaps just touched in the head, but you had no fear for these so-called criminals who tormented the city. Blüdhaven was far worse. It housed the rejects of Gotham trying to restart their lives.

Your neighbors growing up were serial killers. You went to school with their children. Most of your family members still had active lives in crime and your old unpublished work was based off of their stories. Crime was all around you growing up, so what was the purpose of a curfew for just one person?

So what if Joker was running wild in the city? The odds of you meeting were lower than one percent.

Although you did need groceries.. so it might bounce up to 0.5 percent if you took a trip to the store.

Whether it be a natural disaster, normal grocery shopping, or a current shelter in place curfew, Gotham citizens always stocked up like Armageddon was coming. The shelves would be empty by dinnertime if you didn't go now.

Another glance out the window made you sigh. "My hair is gonna get wet." At least the rain would buy you some time before the rush hour crowd clocked out from work.

You groaned but shuffled to your kitchen while grabbing a pad of paper to make a quick list. You had the basic kitchen essentials like milk, bread, and eggs but if this writer's block was anything like its counterpart from the beginning of the year, you needed a plethora of snacks to hold you over.

Since it was Thursday you jotted down ingredients for a hearty, rainy weekend dinner and wrote down a few other things you were low on. Drinks, chips.. ingredients to make some homemade desserts and hopefully they stocked up on your favorite fruits to make a fruit bowl. Your tiny list quickly grew but you rather be safe than sorry. Of course the city curfew was lax but you didn't feel like leaving the house anytime soon once you settled yourself indoors.

You needed to get motivated and start a new work. Not only to save your lapsing contract but for your own sanity. A day spent without writing felt like torture to you.

Your hands itched to type or research a source, anything! As the next song played on in the background, you ventured to your room to get dressed for the rain.

Your closet was a treasure trove of finds ranging from foreign designer threads, to thrift store overalls, to lazy day sweats, but today you decided on an off duty model look for your shopping trip.

You fished out your cobalt blue leather pants and your thigh high snakeskin boots, nodding at your vision. No oversized cloggy rain boots here, you stepped out in style.

The rain was a permanent feature here in Gotham but it never stood in the way of a killer outfit. A simple white crop top was added to your ensemble before you dug out your floor length puffer raincoat you bought on an urge. It was slate grey with blue undertones that would work perfectly with your bold colored pants.

Just because it was dull and gloomy outside didn't mean you had to be.

You twirled around in the mirror nodding to yourself at a job well done. All you needed now was some silver hoop earrings and a way to style your hair.

In its current state it was bound to get wet and curl up on you so you decided to rock the wild frizzy look until the wheels fell off. Wash and go's were another permanent fixture in your life. Hair day would have to be tomorrow; no more putting it off.

With a final outfit check in the mirror your tote bag was thrown over your shoulder along with your phone being shoved into its designed side pocket.

Your list was tucked away from the rain and you locked your apartment before riding the elevator down to the front lobby and making small talk with a neighbor as they walked by.

"It's another rainy one huh?!"

They were soaking wet and that made you cringe and open your umbrella as you walked outside. The rainfall was steady. Could be worse, but you took it in stride.

The congested sidewalks and honks from taxi cabs to the distant police sirens in the city were background noise compared to the loud pitter patter of rain. It had a way of hogging all of the attention as it washed over the city and drowned out the hustle and bustling noises of Gotham. A peaceful reprieve in the city of crime.

You boarded the subway without any issues. Your puffy coat and umbrella shielded you from the rain unlike the other passengers you spotted on your way to the station. Gotham citizens either chose to shield from the rain or to embrace it.

The ones who chose to embrace the weather were in various states of wetness. Some were bone dry like you or soaked completely through but most were in between, neither wet nor dry.

It made no sense to expose yourself to the elements, possible illnesses, and overall discomfort simply because you didn't want to carry an umbrella.

It was Gotham; a little rainwater wouldn't kill ya but a random citizen most definitely would and probably enjoy themselves while doing it. The city you moved to...

A calm feminine voice announced your stop. You hadn't moved from your standing position by the door and you were the first person out when the subway doors slid open. Living in Gotham for almost a year educated you on the tips and secrets necessary to stay safe.

Every adult has their favorite grocery store where they memorized the store layout and/or knows the butchers and other workers. That was normal right?

If not, you didn't care. This store was a little on the pricier side but their selection of food was worth it.

You entered the store, shaking your umbrella dry before sliding it into the storage area; a normal amenity in a rainy city like Gotham. Upon paying the small renting fee for a shopping cart, you pushed it around the front of the store as you dug out your shopping list and pen.

"Don't look at the fresh flowers, Y/n. You don't need any more flowers.. stick to your list!" Although you fought temptation, you still ended up in the florist section browsing through the vast options.

Your mind was working overtime to save you from your impending writer's block. Dancing around the apartment didn't work so it moved onto buying pretty things with the hopes of baking sweet treats if the flowers failed.

The florist saw your wandering eye and waved from behind the counter. "Hi Y/n! Care for your favorite bouquet?" She turned to get started when your undecided tone graced her ears.

"Nah, not today Morgana. Can you surprise me this time? I'm thinking something bright and whimsical to promote some motivation." You eyed the single stems on display and knew she would work her magic yet again. Morgana never disappointed you.

She smiled brightly. "Free creative reign?"

"Duh of course! I'm gonna shop around but I'll come back and pick them up when I'm done. Have fun; there's no limit."

From one artist to another you knew your words sparked the match in Morgana's mind.

Her brown eyes sparkled brighter than her smile. You heard her long ponytail whip through the air from how fast she turned to begin. She looked like a woman on a mission, already grabbing stems to form a base. You smiled and pushed your cart towards the produce section to start shopping.

Oddly enough, the shelves were still relatively stocked but you did beat the 5PM work crowd. You took your time and stuck to your list browsing through the options. You were debating between two packets of meat when your phone rang.

"Oh geez.. who could that be?" Dropping both packets inside your cart to free up your hands, you quickly answered your phone. "Hello?"

"Thank God you answered! Did you not get my text messages Y/n?!" Barbara's frantic voice sounded off in your ear until you pulled it back to check your phone. Lo and behold, ten plus messages increasing in worry from being ignored greeted you.

"Oops.." You scrolled through other messages as you waited for Barbara to scold you.

Sure enough, "That's it? All I get is an oops? Anyways.. I've been trying to reach you. Did you hear about the-"

You totally forgot you were in the grocery store. A sharp ahem drew your attention away from Barbara's phone call to a middle aged woman trying to get by with her buggy.

Your apologies meant nothing to her but you did your best to get out of her way. She snatched a whole chicken out of the bin and gave you the stink eye until she turned the corner. Who peed in her cereal?

"...Y/n? Y/n, can you hear me?!"

Where was your brain today? You scrambled back onto the phone. "Yes, I'm here Barbara! I'm at the store and this Karen caught an attitude. You were saying?" Her fingers missed a key creating a familiar noise. One you memorized by now.

"Does anyone honor my dad's curfew?" She sighed.

You added a packet of beef to your cart. "Nope."

"I see." Barbara said. "But people should be indoors where it's safe!"

It was your turn to sigh. Pushing your cart towards the non-perishables, you picked up a few boxes of baker's chocolate and stocked up on flour and sugar. "No offense Barb but when isn't The Joker free? I'm still relatively new to the city and I don't get the hype for a shelter in place. It's just one guy.."

"Who killed nineteen people in half an hour." Her rhythmic passes across the keyboard started up again and each key echoed loudly in your ear. Maybe you could gift Barbara a new keyboard for Christmas, preferably one with silent keys. The body count however had you confused so you asked.

"Nineteen?! The news said he only killed six."

"Y/n, my dad's the Commissioner. Please tell me you don't believe anything GCN reports? Let me guess, they used their favorite lie, "Commissioner Gordon has not responded to any comments, but hey we didn't reach out to him in the first place to receive such a response!" You kept quiet on your end.

"Your silence confirms it. I can't believe people will listen to GCN before they believe the words of my father, who is the Commissioner! Please go home, Y/n. At least for me? I don't know what I'd do if you were hurt." Barbara mumbled.

You came to a stop in the middle of the store. Her words touched you deeply for you never had a friend growing up that cared about your safety. You led a lonely life but you were slowly opening up and letting people in it.

"Awww love you too Barb! I'm almost done shopping. I promise I'll head straight home. Remember my contract lapse is creeping up so I really need to get into my writing mode and produce something. I promise I won't be going anywhere until Joker is captured or I have a book idea drafted."

You turned down the snack aisle and selected various goods to join your growing cart. Somewhere in between your phone call with Barbara you did away with your list and got whatever you wanted.

Sure you might have some trouble carrying it all back home but you needed more food than what you originally planned.

Who knows how long recapturing Joker might take but you knew it would take even longer for you to draft a story with your current uninspired mind.

"Thank you Y/n. I can work in peace knowing you're safe."

A few more pleasantries were exchanged over the phone before you and Barbara hung up. The rest of your shopping trip went by uneventfully and you purchased your items including the fresh cut flowers that Morgana arranged. She was nervous about your reaction which was completely unnecessary. You would buy thorns and dead roots if she arranged them, the woman was a genius.

A beautiful bouquet of white roses coupled with ivory and lavender mixed elegantly between thistle leaves and blue snapdragons. She added Veronica's and purple scabiosas to round off the display. It looked and smelled delightful. You hoped it would liven up your apartment and boost your creativity.

You declined the store's offer to help deliver your purchases to your residence, (you weren't poor, but definitely not rich enough to afford the tab) and heaved the four heavy bags, two in each arm, with your umbrella hoisted in your grip out the store. Your flowers were wrapped in brown kraft paper and tucked securely in your tote bag. It was a struggle, but you made it back home without getting robbed, soaking wet, and without dropping and/or losing anything.

The first thing you did when you stepped inside was turn on your record player for background noise to unpack to.

Everything had a place and slid neatly into it. Your flowers survived the trip although being slightly smushed on the subway ride. No major damage, so you trimmed the stems before giving them a proper home in your favorite flower vase.

From your writing desk you could smell their sweet aroma. You opted to move your work space from your spare guest room out to the living room to give you the perfect view out the floor length windows you loved so much. The people walking in the park outside and on the city streets below allowed your mind to wander and take a break while you typed.

You loved your apartment's layout and so did Barbara the many times she came over. The open space was ideal for her wheelchair and she was also a big fan of the bright yet cozy aesthetic your place showcased.

Speaking of the redhead. Now that you were fully settled, you sent a text to Barb letting her know you were safe.

An immediate buzz announced her thanks along with a promise to try and check in with you later. She mentioned being super busy tonight and that might impede her promise but she would try her hardest to honor it.

No worries! If not we can talk tomorrow :)

You hit send and tossed your phone onto the desk. A vanilla beeswax candle was lit and a bowl of snacks from the store sat to the left of your laptop with a drink. The scene was set and with you tucked away inside from the rain, all you needed to do was start writing.

. . . . . .

But nothing came. A few hours had passed in your failed attempt at writing. Staring at the empty word document, the cursor blinked slower than normal as if taunting your lack of progress.

You didn't type a single word but the entire bowl of snacks was gone. Your candle was halfway burned through and the rain outside had let up to its original light trickle.

"This is going nowhere." You said.

You buried your face in your hands and groaned. "Focus, Y/n! Pull ya self together. No need to flesh out an entire story. All Cindy needs.. no, all I need is an idea. The rest will come later. It always does."

You glanced over at your mood board hoping for a spark. The designated white wall was devoid of clippings or other media of art. "Oh, I didn't update that." You picked up your phone only to see the low battery alert staring back at you.

"That's what I get for not charging all day." You inserted the charger into your phone, holding back a few frustrated tears.

All your normal avenues of inspiration weren't working all except for one. You were tempted but you promised Barbara you wouldn't.

You promised you wouldn't leave the apartment until you started a rough draft. Although you couldn't start a story you weren't motivated to write. The loophole presented itself.

A quick glance at the clock made you cringe. It was well after midnight but this was your golden hour. What harm could a ten minute walk do? You could walk a few blocks down to Repp Street and be back before anything dangerous happened. But you did make a promise…

"No walking around the city at odd hours of the night" but what Barbara didn't know wouldn't kill her. You needed a walk to clear your head and get the gears upstairs back a turning. Nothing bad would happen! As a writer you should've known better. You probably just jinxed yourself.

Regardless if something did happen, you made an executive decision to go anyways and blew out your candle before shuffling over to your rain boots.

You put them on along with your puffy grey jacket from before and stepped out of the apartment. Your keys were still in your pocket so you walked down the hallway to the stairwell.

You didn't share the floor with anyone but Ms. Langstrom downstairs was adamant she could hear you walking back and forth at night. The old scientist forgot there was a whole maintenance floor separating you from everyone else. It was one of the many pros of owning the penthouse.

A con was the elevator didn't run this late. No matter how much the rent was in this middle-upper class building, they put restrictions on its hours of operation.

Just a short walk you told yourself, (the eleven flights of stairs didn't count) a couple of blocks around the corner, and then back, that's it.

It didn't dawn on you that you left your phone charging on your desk or that your alleged two blocks turned into a full walking exercise over the bridge to Somerset and into Chinatown.

You never walked this far on foot before but with your scattered brain the distance was nothing. The smell from the Chinese street vendors and restaurants wafted in the air, clearing up your thoughts and stimulating your imagination.

You haven't penned a historical fantasy book yet. Warm wonton soup, splashes of calligraphy ink across stark white ancient scrolls, and the distant twine of an Erhu played, on or was that sirens?

Sure enough you broke out of your trance to the sound of police sirens in the distance. Six GCPD cruises flew down the street giving you a mini heart attack but you were grateful for the distraction.

"Wait, how did I get here?" You looked left and right taking in your surroundings. It seemed only a few minutes had passed when in reality, it was almost two hours.

Red, yellow, and purple neon lights in traditional Hanzi characters flashed on every building and colorful streamers hanging from the rooftops enclosed the street, giving it a cozy and intimate feeling. It was a town of color vastly different from the bleak streets of Gotham. Ornate dragon statues stared back at you behind piles of trash and strings of red paper lanterns shined brilliantly from the rainstorm.

Inspiration was all around you waiting to be documented. You had an idea. Right now. You patted your pockets for your phone to jot them down, but froze.

"Where? Oh no. No no no no!!" If you didn't write this idea down it would fade away with no hope of returning. Where is your phone?!

A vision of your sought after device charging at home popped in your mind. "Dang it!" Just your luck you forget to bring it!

In your anger you didn't notice the approaching figure. You kept searching through your empty pockets, (like that would do you any good) right into the stranger.

Somehow in the tumble his, or was it your balance, gave way and both of you crashed onto the pavement. Thankfully a few trash bags cushioned your fall, thus staining your coat, but that was the least of your worries.

Hovering above you was Gotham City’s worst nightmare: The Joker. Up close he wasn't as scary as the media painted him out to be. What terrified you the most was the 9 mm digging into your forehead.

It clicked off the safety right as his voice warned you.

"Make any noise and I'll blow your pretty little head off." His other hand gestured wildly to mimic your brain exploding before righting his balance above you.

You nodded as police dogs barked loudly and pulled their owners past the alleyway you and Joker fell into. Was it a blessing they didn't find you or a curse? More sirens and shouts rang out, getting closer and closer. Maybe you would stand corrected.

"This way!" One officer yelled while leading the rest. A helicopter circulated above and flooded the area with light yet it narrowly missed the two of you as you hid in plain sight.

Joker's body weight pressed you further down towards the pavement almost like he heard your thoughts. He couldn't afford to get caught and he was pleasantly surprised you were keeping quiet as the police personnel went by.

Usually his hostages would be sobbing uncontrollably by now or babbling nonsense in their delirium. He definitely would have shot them for it but you? You were different.

You remained calm although he felt the way your heart beat wildly in your chest but that could all be chalked up to the normal adrenaline rush after a jog. Joker glanced down at your attire and knew that wasn't the case. You were dressed like a rich spoiled brat caught in the rain. Snakeskin boots and leather pants? Were you asking to get mugged?

He chose to ignore how your pants hugged your figure… and what a figure indeed..

You breathed a sigh of relief or perhaps of regret when the helicopter and police left the area. Joker berated himself for checking you out and not paying attention to the search party. For a moment everything was quiet until you remembered Joker was practically lying on top of you.

You also remembered his threat from earlier and dutifully kept your mouth shut but it was getting uncomfortable as the minutes passed.

Was he gonna leave and do whatever wanted fugitives did in their downtime? Your weekend was free but that didn't mean you had all night to spend lying in some dirty alley.

The one time you leave the apartment without your phone you would run into the very person the entire city wanted to avoid. Whatever happened to your one percent chance rate? The one time you didn't shelter in place.. this would happen!

Your annoyed sigh got Joker's attention. His hooded eyes flickered over to you and scanned your features.

You were definitely something to look at but he was a busy man. He couldn't get distracted by some normal citizen with a pretty face. Since when was the last time he admired a girl simply for her looks and not by her usefulness as a hostage? Well currently you were a hostage but he felt no urge to kill you. Yet.

There were other ways you could be useful. Joker shifted his weight and even with his high tolerance for pain he couldn't hold back his low groan

The unexpected noise made you blink and break his orders. "Um.. are you okay?"

Silence. 'Well duh. What else were you expecting, Y/n? A response?'

He didn't pull the trigger or reprimand you so you pressed your luck again but right as you parted your lips to speak, he rolled off you. Was it wrong to miss his weight on you? Were you finally losing it? He did feel kinda nice– warm and solid, smelling faintly of rain and gunpowder, a shockingly good combination.

You watched as he awkwardly fell onto his side next to you. If he didn't want to answer your question fine, but you knew something was wrong.

Joker's gun was no longer pointed at your forehead, allowing you to sit up and search for the cause of his grunt. The red glow from Chinatown illuminated the narrow alleyway that you and Joker rested in and upon first glance, he looked fine.

The GCN’s news prioritized the deaths and injuries of the Asylum workers but failed to report Joker's condition. Not like anyone cared but somehow in his escape he sustained some kind of injury.

Laying on his side you noticed he favored his left leg more and now that you got a closer look at him, you saw that he was bleeding.

"Oh um you're bleeding!" Your head snapped up hearing his sarcastic laugh, though it sounded more winded than it usually did on tv. "As one typically does when.. ah shot."

"Y-You've been shot? Where? How did you run from the cops with a..."

"Ahtttt." Joker waved his gun in your face. That was one way to end a conversation.

Here you were trying to be a Good Samaritan and forgot who you were talking to. "This isn't my first rodeo toots. It's just a scratch." To prove his point, Joker jumped to his feet, scaring you with his agility before rightened his suit jacket and looking ready to leave.

You almost believed his act until his leg buckled under its own weight when he tried to walk away. You sprung into action and caught him– well you kept him upright, the wall behind you did most of the catching.

Joker's appearance was tall and lanky but as you held him up you discovered the truth. He was all muscle underneath his tailored suits and haunting visage. You didn't know how to process that new information and wisely steered the conversation elsewhere.

"You need a doctor." You huffed out. Your face was so close to Joker's that you saw his tongue dart out to lick the outline of his grease paint.

"No, I don'T." He stressed the t in don't.

You noticed that Joker articulated certain words to get his point across during his theatrical conversations and deep monologues. As an author you found his speech pattern very intriguing but right now he was being stubborn. "Yes you do."

"Hmm. Me and my.. uh primary care doctor never quite goT along. Let's just say.. he's no longer accepting new patients, if you know what I mean." You did. This was the infamous Joker you were talking to. The physician was probably dead and decomposing in the Gotham River.

But while that disturbing thought danced around in your head, the constant reminder that Joker still had his gun and most likely plenty of other weapons on him failed to deter your crazy decision.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you blurted out the invitation. "My apartment is in Old Gotham. Do you think you can make it that far?"

'Stupid stupid stupid! You have officially lost your mind!' Your inner self screamed after your suggestion. How dumb could you be inviting Joker to your place? This was not a tea party at a slumber party!

Joker was... well The Joker– a madman that killed because it was fun and you opened your mouth and invited him over. The awkward silence stretched on as you waited for his response or for your death. Whichever came first.

"Harboring a fugitive, are you sureee about that?" He asked. You could hear the grin in his words, slick like oil.

"Well, you do have me at gunpoint. I don't think I can just up and leave now can I?"

He let out a chuckle or was it a masked cough? Just how bad were his injuries? "Pretty and smart, I like that." He stood straight, taking you with him, and poked your rib cage with his gun. "Lead the way."

How the two of you managed to walk from Chinatown back to your apartment with Joker’s injured leg shocked you. Even at 2AM the streets were busy with people yet you kept to the backstreets and stayed in the darkness to avoid being spotted.

Joker cracked morbid jokes the entire walk back and when you two crossed the bridge over into Old Gotham, he quickly noted which direction you were leading him to.

"Now here I thought we were, uh, getting along. Care to ex-plain why we're headed towards GCPD?" You froze, feeling his gun dig into your side again.

Thankfully you stopped in an alleyway near Repp street.

Ironic, since this was your original stopping point for your walk but you kept going and ultimately landed in the mess you were in now. Supporting half of Joker's weight while being paranoid at being caught. The realization of how far you walked mentally and physically tired you out. Joker's gun was the last thing on your mind when you turned and snapped at him.

"My apartment is on Quinn street overlooking Grant Park. I'm not dumb enough to lure you to the police, Joker. It just so happens that I live in the same vicinity.

"Ah, so you're just dumb enough to help me. Gotcha."

You sighed and kicked off the building you were resting on. With your arm around Joker's waist and the other keeping his arm around your shoulder, you chose to ignore his insult.

"We're almost there. See?" You nodded up the street to a cluster of apartment buildings. "Do you see that white building with the all glass roof? That's my place, it's the next block over. C'mon."

Maybe the adrenaline rush helped or maybe you were that anxious to get home, but it felt like you teleported Joker to your apartment only to run into another problem. The lobby staff was gone for the day so you didn't have to worry about being outed. The problem was the elevator itself.

Joker noticed your hesitation and rolled his eyes. "What now? Aren't we going inside?" You made eye contact with the Prince of Crime and in your panic, explained.

"The elevator doesn't work at night." He licked his lips, giving you another flash of his tongue. He saw where your eyes dropped to and leaned in closer.

"Will that be a.. mmm, problem for us?" He finally had a moment to appreciate your fear.

A shame it wasn't directed towards him but he admired it all the same.

Your doe eyes took on a pinched edge and the color darkened a few shades as you tried to strategize. Oh but he loved your wild untamed curls that shook about your head. The humidity finally got a hold of them and he happened to like its chaotic state. Though he took an issue with the abuse you doled out on your bottom lip.

He tsked to himself and playfully slapped your cheek. You jumped at the contact. "Hey, hey. Look at me! There she is... Now, will thaT be a problem?"

"Y-Your leg... I live on the top floor."

You watched Joker sigh and crack his neck. It made for a scary sight and you knew nothing good would follow it. Imagine your surprise when he scratched his forehead with his gun (did he not value his life?) and shooed you with it. "Show me."

"Huh? Show you what?" Joker escaped your hold and stood on his own. "Uh.. the elevator, sweetheart."

"B-But.."

"Shhh shh shhhh." He cooed to you softly. "Trust me on this. I'm a man of many talents." His dark glare hinted to those many talents, some you didn't wish to think about..

You nodded and after glancing around for witnesses, ran to the front door with Joker hot on your heels.

You used the nighttime keycard to grant you access and the low hum of the door opening and then closing steadied your pounding heart. You looked over your shoulder seeing nothing but darkness himself patiently waiting for your next move.

Right the elevator. You walked towards the lift and sighed. "Like I said, it doesn't work after midnight. I'm sorry but we'll have to take the stairs."

"Gimme that." Joker said, already snatching your keycard out of your hand.

He flipped it over, inspecting the black device and then the lift and its power pad. You wondered how he was going to override the restriction but he was The Joker for a reason. In less than two minutes he cracked some invisible code and the elevator whirled to life on its way to come pick you up.

You lived here almost a year and never could get the lift to work after midnight. "How did you do that?"

The door chimed open waiting for its passengers, offering much needed light to the dark lobby however Joker adopted his sinister persona again and slowly backed you into the elevator. Your back hit the mirrored wall with Joker coming to a stop in front of you.

You were at a loss in front of his towering height. He didn't break eye contact with you as he stabbed the twelfth floor button on the panel.

Cornered. That's how you felt trapped in an elevator with Gotham City's deadliest criminal. His eyes took on a more greener hue in the artificial lighting and you couldn't look away. His black war paint was smudged a bit from his sweat and it bled into the white, and the distressed look made him even more menacing.

Once again your gaze dropped to his mouth where his scars were covered with red paint. It was probably the adrenaline still raging but you boldly lifted your hand up to touch them. That is until Joker grabbed your wrist.

He looked disappointed for a split second until he perked up with an eerie smile. "You wanna know how I got these scars?" He craned his neck, showing them off but your eyes flickered up to the elevator floor dial indicator flashing two.. three..

"Why won't you look at meee, hmm? Do they scare you?" You turned to Joker with furrowed brows.

"What? No, I actually like them. They remind me of the scars Bill gave.. was it Jess? No, Mallorie at the retreat lodge." You held back your laughter at Joker's deadpan look.

"I'm a writer. I-I write things, m-mostly books and your scars reminds me of a character I created in-"

"Will Hunter Bill. I should've recognized that face of yours. You're Y/n L/n."

Why did your name sound so alluring when he said it? You would think about that later, shock was hitting you full force right now.

"You know me?"

"Hmm." He pretended to think and curled a strand of your hair around his finger in the process. The elevator was slowly creeping up toward your floor but not fast enough. There was only so much of Joker in this close proximity that you could handle.

"You wrote… Distracted By Her Justice did you noT?" He put emphasis on his t's again. His pronunciation of certain words almost made you snicker but the words itself caused your brain to screech to a halt.

Distracted By Her Justice was the first novel you ever wrote during a small internship back home in Blüdhaven. Cindy had yet to discover you but she read the short story and hired you because of it. You then went on to write a few lesser known books and your current hit series WHB.

The fact Joker knew about Her Justice let alone read it horrified you. "How do you know about my first published work?"

Joker swayed on his feet but had enough energy to cup your face. His touch was gentle at first until he tightened his grip on your chin. His unpredictable mood swings scared you as the elevator grew closer and closer to your floor.

What did you get yourself into? You noticed his face paint also covered the inside of his mouth this close up. Maybe that was the reason he licked his lips so much? But why would he wear something that's uncomfortable?

Ignore the fact that you noticed. Seriously, what was your fixation with his mouth? You had other things to worry about like the way Joker sagged his weight on you between the 9th and 10th floor.

He sighed and pressed you more into the elevator wall. You didn't know it but Joker's energy was waning and fast.

Before he bumped into you, his henchmen were doing a terrible job at escaping the authorities. He broke out of Arkham around lunchtime but it took forever getting off the island and back to the mainland. They took refuge in an abandoned warehouse until an anonymous tip ratted them out. Joker's plan was to retreat back to Amusement Mile but GCPD were swarming the place awaiting his arrival. He hated being on the run and the pouring rain wasn't helping his mood.

Another move towards Otisburg resulted in a shootout with the police and although Joker lost a few of his men, he killed more of Gotham's finest.

Yet the shootout continued. Joker hated guns. They were too quick and he didn't get to savor a kill but he was wise enough not to bring a knife to a gunfight. His mind didn't register he was shot until a henchman pointed it out. It was more of a nuisance than anything, but he managed to escape with only three goons at the end of things.

Two would scout ahead while the other secured a getaway car. Joker waited an hour. Then two, but after three hours without the scouts or the getaway car returning, he knew he was alone. Police sirens in the distance made him laugh aloud. Gordon and his men were working overtime tonight.

If he wasn't sporting a nasty gunshot wound, Joker probably would have stayed in his makeshift hideout but he needed medical attention and fast. Wherever this bullet was lodged wasn't good. Perhaps a hostage could help in his situation but before he could scope out his surroundings, his location was compromised. The Canine unit had found his scent and forced him out of the warehouse and onto the streets of Chinatown.

'Head north towards West Mercy Hospital. Snatch a resident on their smoke break; anyone would do.' Joker knew his plan was foolproof but he didn't factor in his blood loss or you getting in the way.

He bumped into you and his remaining energy just gave out. He lost consciousness periodically during your interaction together but you didn't seem to notice.

He was a good actor after all and quickly took control of the situation. Joker was about to force you into finding him a doctor but you surprised him with your offer of staying at your apartment. He checked you out far too many times tonight; he knew rich people when he saw one. Paired with your naïve heart and generosity, this would be too easy.

Only problem? You weren't afraid of him or his dangerous personality, nothing scared you away.

Joker liked that. You were a challenge to crack and ultimately break. Being held at gunpoint shocked you at first but overtime your muscles relaxed and you didn't shy away from his presence, if anything on the walk to your place you snuggled up closer to him.

He noticed your stolen glances and how your eyes always wandered back to his mouth. You were intrigued by him. Like an innocent lamb trying to befriend the lion.

Joker didn't have any plans after escaping Arkham but riding an elevator up to one of his favorite author's place wasn't on the agenda.

He was a man of chaos but also of literature. Studying people's psyche and predicting their next move before it happened took a high level of intelligence. Joker didn't care for elaborate plans (okay maybe just a few) but he liked to be knowledgeable and reading literature regardless of the genre, helped him immensely.

He stumbled upon your oeuvre by chance and read your books in order. He enjoyed The Greeks Among Us for its ambiguous ending.

Would Thaleia embrace her hatred for her own people and annihilate them all or descend back to the human realm to die with her revenge unsatisfied? He loved how the reader got to pick which open ending to believe.

His favorite book of yours was Distracted By Her Justice. You dived deep into the social and political injustices within Gotham but covered up the controversial views by making the characters high school students learning about romance.

It read like a teen romcom but Joker and other like minded individuals knew better. Almost all of your books had a double meaning behind the flowery rom-com plot. He desperately wanted to meet you and talk about your philosophies but why would a normal citizen like you want to meet him? It would never happen.

Then you wrote Will Hunter Bill. Joker knew then you were a scholar under-appreciated in this era. And so young! He could only imagine what you would write as you matured. Your books were based on real life issues that were swept under the rug here in Gotham City and for once he thought someone would blow the whistle and expose them.

Standing in this elevator with you as your e/c eyes took him in, he felt ridiculous for thinking it, but you were probably the only person capable and bold enough to do it.

Unfortunately Joker lost too much blood and he wasn't thinking straight. You were nothing but a naïve little girl reaching out in horror to catch him. Wait..

"Joker! Are you okay?! Please say something!" Just a few seconds ago he was alright, (albeit lost in thought) and staring off to the side.

You knew he was looking at something beyond this elevator when his eyes rolled back and he began to fall.

You caught him for the second time tonight and with perfect timing. The elevator arrived at the twelfth floor of your apartment. The doors opened with a soft ding that gave your stomach butterflies.

You were finally home

Just a few more feet and you would be at your front door. You took a deep breath and used the last of your adrenaline to adjust Joker's weight in your arms and half carried, half dragged the psychotic clown to your door

Joker mumbled something inaudible as you fumbled with the key. He was resting on your pocket that held it but after some careful maneuvering, you fished them out. You got it through the lock and with a twist, a gush of cold vanilla scented air hit you before gravity worked its magic and he started leaning towards the floor

"No no no turn left! Go left!" Somehow you guided Joker to your couch before he slipped into unconsciousness, leaving you alone with a wanted criminal in your apartment. Reality kicked in fast.

"Oh my God. I'm harboring a fugitive."

#ledger joker #ledger joker x reader #reader insert #black!fem!reader #batman #dc comics #smut #joker smut #slow burn #yandere #romance #angst #Long Reads #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on AO3 #his lighthouse

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quickquirk · 2 years

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#戒 #kai #kai gazette #the gazette #the gazette kai #hot #walking #suit #fadeless #world tour #train #tracks #railway

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lipid · 2 months

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the GazettE 2013 World Tour documentary - Reita and Ruki before the concert

#the GazettE #reita #ruki #tg #this documentary is so good 😭 they looked like they were having fun in méxico 🥺 i hope they all liked their first visit…

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spinef0ryou · 1 year

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Interview with Ville Valo in Metal Hammer magazine, words by Alexander Milas. Transcript under the cut

It’s a gloomy November evening in London and inside the crystalline bowels of the Universal Music tower there are dark goings-on under a winter moon. An arcane gathering of power-brokers, decision makers, and tastemakers, has convened to hear the first, dulcet tones of a new record in its entirety - a lyrical and melodious exsanguination called Neon Noir. Less an album, the subject of tonight’s attention is more like a swan song played in reverse or a departed loved one’s voice playing in the wind. We’ll get to that.

There are no robes here, such vestigial ornaments long since done away with to provide anonymity on public transportation, but the importance of these proceedings is in no way diminished. This is how the music industry in all its mysterious dealings determines where and when its various powers are to be invoked - an Illuminati-like network of aligned hands is this rogues' gallery of journalists, label managers and festival promoters. Even the helmswoman of the gazette you hold in your verv hands can be seen lurking in the shadows.

At the centre of the dim chamber stands a lone, flat-capped figure, his chiselled visage peculiarly, vampirically unchanged by the many years since he first graced the cover of an international publication such as this, and let it be said that he was never a stranger to these folios.

If anything can be said of Ville Valo's appearance it's that he could teach anyone half his age a thing or two about self-presentation - and, for the record, they'd be 23 at time of publication. Svelte, casually besuited and elegantly understated in his attire - all different hues of black, obviously - he's been affably chatting with the gathered conclave with such fluidity and confidence that anyone would think it's something he does every day, and anyone who knows his incongruous penchant for reclusiveness when off the stage would suspect that maybe he's changed since we saw him last.

For the record, he does not, and he has not. Ten long years have passed since His Infernal Majesty's final release, the career summation that was 2013's Tears On Tape, and it has been five years since Him played their final note on the second of two sold-out nights at the London Roundhouse in December of 2017. Their concluding song was the aptly chosen, syrupy dirge of When Love And Death Embrace, and the mortuary pallor of its refrains couldn't have been better matched to the forlorn mood of that distinctly funereal moment.

For many, it was a farewell to one of life's few constants: Him were less like a band and more like a comforting gothic world to those who fell prey to its blackened enchantments, and as if further affirmation is needed, no one in the field of music has since emerged to even remotely fill the heartagram-shaped hole left in Ville's wake. As the lights in the venue went up to reveal no shortage of streaked mascara, it would have been impossible to surmise whether we'd ever hear from Ville again - such was the finality of that tour and the deathly vibe of that night.

More desolate still was the long silence that ensued after the 26-year adventure he spearheaded under an iconic banner designed by his own hand. Eight records, ten million sales and countless fans getting heartagram tattoos of variable quality were the tallies of Ville's musical ledger.It was over. Him was dead. Their founder was gone. And then, quietly, headless blooms began to flank his headstone.

First came the news that he was blowing off the cobwebs to undertake a tour of Finland to record and perform songs by the late, beloved Finnish singer-songwriter Rauli 'Badding' Somerjoki, with Somerjoki's old band, Agents. The project smashed the charts in Finland before they eventually disbanded.

More silence followed until March 2020, when an unheralded EP was released under a new banner, VV complete with an updated reimagining of the famed heartagram. A portent of what was to come, Gothica Fennica Vol. 1 was far from alien to anyone familiar with Him's long-established sound, but it also bore the hallmarks of a songwriter unbound by the restraints of collaboration or co-writing. As the world smouldered, it was a hopeful omen that perhaps not everything had been lost to the pandemic.

We retreat from the listening session to a quieter room to shine to shine a neon light on the story of the rebirth and toil that followed, a res-erection-

Ville shoots a look as if to say, 'You're not gonna write that, are you?' Well…

“‘Promo tours are like Bullet-point for my Valentine.”

Ville has sunk into his armchair, a body deflated. We've just been talking about the sometimes less-than-rock'n'roll demands of album promotion, and how while just 10 years have passed since Him's final release, a lifetime of change in the industry's inner workings has followed. It's Thursday and Ville's already done the rounds in Berlin this week, plus a big photo session, too - rumour has it that a smoke machine for a cover shoot triggered a confrontation with security here yesterday. Whoever the photographer was that bolted the door shut so the shoot could continue remains a mystery at the time of going to press.

But despite Ville's tiredness after two days of media-based pokes and prods and his first international flight in five years, he's still exhibiting a remarkably playful way with words: the product of voracious reading and self-confessed Anglophilia that can make it easy to forget this is his second language, although as we'll soon discover there are some words that resist translation.

We're reflecting on how many times he's appeared in the pages of Metal Hammer. I produce a photo from many years gone by, taken by Mick Hutson. It's Ville, looking like a goth deer caught in headlights, sitting in the back of a limo between the late Dimebag Darrell and Mötley Crüe's Nikki Sixx on his way to the Metal Hammer Golden God awards. He smirks.

"It was a playground, wasn't it?" he says of the Ville of yore. "Oh my god, that was a weird one. I remember Dimebag - he'd been up all night, and there's me stuck in the middle. I gave my Golden God award to Zakk Wylde's daughter. He told me she was a huge fan and I'd had a sip too many, so…”

And let it be said that by the time Him went stratospheric - a runway stretching between 2000's Razorblade Romance and 2003's definitive Love Metal - there were few publications that weren't peppering their pages with images of Ville. photogenic but, more importantly, hilarious, his wry and dismissive self-regard tempered the styled polish of his many covershoots. In a time when emo was king, Ville brought something current but gleefully out of step with fashion, musical and otherwise, but he persevered because, arguably, beyond the music he possessed that rare quality that escapes so many whose trade is on the road and in music studios. He was interesting, and Him and their legion of fans were their own movement. For a time, if you ever stood at the back of one of their sold-out shows, it looked something like Beatlemania directed by Tim Burton.

“What would you say to yourself back then?” He smiles and takes a moment before replying.

“It isn't a horror movie thing, but my oldest self has whispered to my younger self many times. You know, I could have done stuff way wiser in the sense of trying to become more successful in terms of money, listening to record companies or whatnot, because people had a damn hard time trying to figure out what we were all about. I wouldn't do anything differently because then I wouldn't be here - that's the beauty of it."

And, tracing the course of what Ville did, what he's doing now, there's little to suggest that anything has changed in terms of his resistance to the common methods of self-promotion. In a time of compulsive micro-blogging and algorithm-feeding content, the official 'Heartagram' Instagram account posts at roughly the same rate as the Vatican. Be it about the preservation of mystery or a refusal to play the game, let it never be said that he didn't do it his way.

“I’m a slow learner. I only learned about the eggplant emoji yesterday! But as for those whispers, it's something to do with the nonlinearity of time," he continues. "I had some foresight to the pandemic, though, and found myself a house with a photography studio which I turned into a music studio. It's one big room that enabled me to spread around all the weird pieces of kit from all eras - sort of my creative central. During the pandemic, that's all I did. There was no rhyme or reason, I just thought it was time to move on and do something different. It could have been my older self whispering to my younger self in the middle of the night, like, 'Now's a good time. You'll understand it better in a few years.' So yeah, it could be one of those things."

We notice a white wall in the corridor is covered in dozens of Sharpie signatures from fellow artists who’ve passed through. Some are small, while pop groups Bastille and Westlife have gone big with huge cubital letters. Unimpressed, Ville reaches for a glow-in-the-dark V sticker from his breast pocket and wryly sticks it up at the top. Always a rebel.

Was it hard to decide which direction to go in after Him?

“Musically, I'm a pair of bell-bottoms," he says. "If you want to follow hits, you're always going to be too late. Music and art is essential for my wellbeing, it's the air that I breathe - it's natural for me, but at times I've felt like a human among the lizard people, an infiltrator from another galaxy. The only thing I can do is the thing I can do."

Of course, it raises the question of how VV and indeed Neon Noir came about. That Ville has always presided over every detail of his music is no secret - there's never been a doubt as to whose vision it all was, and the ending of Him is just as important as the beginning we're here to discuss. As anyone who's seen the end of a relationship will know, the signs of impending demise can appear long before the cracks emerge, and the conclusion of Him was no different. To paraphrase a singer named BB on the prologue to VV, the thrill was gone...

"Expiration is funny when it comes to bands," he says matter-of-factly. Whatever wounds may have been inflicted, they have long since closed, and he's at ease when prompted on what went down.

"It didn't happen overnight - we'd started having trouble after Tears On Tape. Gas (Lipstick] had left the band and we found a new drummer, which was fantastic for a time, but we just couldn't find it in ourselves - a new album. We started working on ideas, but they didn't sound very good. The adult way to approach things is that if it's something you really do love, you have to love them enough to let them go when the right moment comes. The spark was no longer there, so timing-wise, it was good - I wouldn't have minded it to happen a little earlier because now I see the end of my own career in the distance. I never wanted it to feel like a job. You'll see bands touring where it quite clearly is. Something so central needs to be full of passion and laughter and joy and tears - dramatic, like a pint of milk."

Dairy funny. Have you been in touch with the guys since then, we ask?

"I haven't been in touch with Gas in more than 10 years," comes the reply. "And Linde [Mikko 'Linde' Lindström, guitarist] is quite a solitary fellow who's not a big talker anyway. But Mige [Mikko 'Mige' Paananen, bassist] was a bit of a Rick Rubin on the album. He was like this weird guru that came by every three months and gave me a stamp of approval, like, 'Yeah, this is fine.' He's one of my earliest childhood friends and one of my best mates still, so we keep in touch - that's rare. It's been 35 years or something..."

It was that relationship that provided something of the lifeline that Ville needed. He describes the feeling after Him's final show as something akin to phantom limb syndrome, where amputees report sensation in appendages that are no longer there.

"I felt like an outsider, an outcast," he says. "[I felt like] I didn't understand myself, and that the world doesn't understand me or that I didn't belong. It's a profound feeling, you know, to existentially feel that you don't understand the world or your place in it. Funnily enough, how I got through that was writing. The pandemic really painted everyone into a corner. I wasn't suicidal, but there was a tinge of depression as well, not seeing tomorrow or the worth of the day after tomorrow. People reacted in different ways. I forced myself back to music, and music gave me the gift of song once again. I was able to pull off a couple of Sabbath rip-offs, so that made me feel better. That was a big deal."

Ville will go on to animatedly recount how the loss of purpose and trajectory coupled with the worldwide shutdown was in some sense the perfect reset post-Him, and while he hit a very low ebb, it was precisely the kind of downtime he needed and hadn't had since Him's formation when he was just a teen.

"There was no scheduling, nobody to communicate with about what I was working on, so it was very unfiltered intuition, straight to tape or whatever recording medium, and I found myself having goosebumps like I'd never had before. Well..." his eyes impishly go to the ceiling, "musically, at least. I'm scared of stuff being really repetitive - it's nice to enjoy a binge watch on Netflix, but you're never gonna get the time back. That doesn't mean, 'Don't do it! But enjoy the now, take advantage of the time. That's what we'll be doing when we go on tour with the band next year, challenging myself to do lots of things and not step into a sort of zombified existence. People are so distracted…”

At the beginning of the Divine Comedy, the main character - Dante Alighieri's Pilgrim - wrote of finding himself in a dark wood halfway through the walk of life; the straight path, lost. It was a roundabout way of describing the confusion that can come with middle age, but in his mid-4os and with the deep shadows and brilliant highlights of an illustrious career in the rear-view mirror, I wonder aloud if the same could be said of the current predicament.

Dante's come up because, as is often the case with Ville, the subjects of language and literature are never far away. I ask him to elaborate on that tinge of depression he's mentioned, and he says one thing. and lets it hang in the air: "Kaiho."

Sorry?

"Kai-ho," he says again, slowly. It's a Finnish word, he explains, that defies direct translation but describes the twist of emotions he was detangling in the wake of a lifetime on the road and in the limelight. "It isn't a negative feeling. It's a bittersweet reverie. I think Finnish people find it profoundly positive as well, because it also means that you have lived, you have loved and that you experience things that actually make a difference, at least to you personally, hopefully, for the people around you."

Did you struggle?

"I had a month where I didn't get out of bed," he states.

"Around that long, at least. I was pretty worried about it. I forced myself up and back to music through conversations with mates, you know, getting my spirits up a bit, but it was a weird feeling. It's not like you can't get up. You just don't want to get up. You don't want to do anything and you can't really do anything: just super-tired, some form of post-traumatic stress after all the years. It could be that it took a while for it to hit, and it coincided with a pandemic. I wasn't able to do anything, so my body and my mind told me to get the sleep I missed back in the day. Thankfully I slept it off, but life doesn't get any easier. It's getting more complicated, more bittersweet - a tough combo. A pint half full, half empty…”

Of course, the wrought-iron melody of Neon Noir's various paeans to love and loss wouldn't seem correct if they came from a place of emotional buoyancy, but if the slump Ville describes really was just making up for lost sleep-time, he's making no bones about his desire to get back to work.

"I'm not thinking about the end, but what I do realise is that, thinking in logical terms, it's going to be really weird if I'm 60 and still in it, which means that I have less than that in terms of album cycles. It starts to get a bit scary because I've done music all my life, but then again, thinking like that makes me smile."

So how does a 46-year-old's vision of love change from, say, a 20-year-old's?

"Well, maybe we haven't had that 'one true love' in the traditional sense in Shakespearean drama: the overwhelming one that takes over everything. You can't compare relationships and you shouldn't - different times, different people, different chemistry, different reasons. Music is still at its best when it's a soundtrack to important events."

So how does Neon Noir reflect your own life?

"It's very sincere - it encapsulates things. The indecisiveness on whether I belong to the camp of Black Sabbath or Depeche Mode, the constant struggle with good and evil. Run Away From The Sun is the first song I wrote and I didn't know if I had a song in me at all, but I had to start from somewhere. I had all these ideas. I started to do it and follow my intuition. I wasn't in a rush, I had no deadlines - I didn't even know if I was going to continue, and that was the most fruitful ground, because it felt real and unadulterated by pressure…”

As new as it all is for Ville, there are some things that have remained unchanged, or perhaps present is a better word. The heartagram was, after all, the gothic bat-signal of the early 00’s onward...

"It was everything Him stood for," he says. "I just wiggled that one line and realised it has my initials, and that was the reason I called the project VV, and I liked that it had a 'V for Victory' kinda vibe to it, and visually it had the traditional aspect to it, a current iteration of the same idea. It's symbolic, because I didn't want to force myself to take a completely different route musically. I'm not an actor, and Him all happened very organically. I was finding my voice, or whatever you want to call it, through Type O and Black Sabbath back then, and I still am."

From the mood in the room it's a welcome return indeed. It seems that for the first time in a lifetime he's found his path -with the help of a little neon to hold back the darkness.

LIGHTS OUT

Ville Valo reveals the dark secrets behind new album Neon Noir

01: ECHOLOCATE YOUR LOVE

"I was enjoying a documentary on the navigational skills of bats and imagined their nocturnal courting calls bouncing eerily between the walls of the abyss in a gothic ping pong-fashion. To make sure I was communicating this musical vision clearly, I included a cowbell in the middle eight, just because whenever one can, one should."

02: RUN AWAY FROM THE SUN

"The light at the end of the tunnel can sometimes shine so bright it’s scary, and my running-away skills have been highly developed over the years by sweeping most of my issues under the carpet. There are also a few church bell samples ringing among all the 80s-inspired synth sequences, only to make sure the ever-fickle balance between good and evil doesn't err on the side of Skywalker."

03: NEON NOIR

“ A cheerful memento mori if there ever was one, and my first guitar solo on record. The working title was 'Vangelis Halen' and I think I managed to get fairly close in marrying the claustrophobic beauty of Blade Runner with the reckless abandon of VH, in a sort of funeral-car-crash-in-slow-motion-type setting.”

04: LOVELETTING

“ An ode to the setting sun and a tale of dancing on the razor's edge between holding on and letting go. A moribundle of joy in a patchouli garden, with handclaps."

05: THE FOREVERLOST

"The Finnish tourism board should definitely include ‘Nyctophile Shangri-La' as a tagline promoting Finland from now on instead of the worn-out Santanic slogans of yore. A menace-à-trois between Andrew Eldritch, Jaz Coleman and Peter Hook.”

06: BABY LACRIMARIUM

“Quite a traditional love song written by someone who takes the Poe in poetry a wee bit too seriously. A study on blocked tear ducts and The Cure."

07: SALUTE THE SANGUINE

"None of the ways out are easy, so taking the road less travelled is always the preferred method. 'If I could only say the same about the music,’ mutters the little Devil on my shoulder."

08: IN TRENODIA

"A world-building exercise at its bleakest, 'Trenodia' representing a highly modified utopia lit by every shade of blue, with a suitably melancholy soundtrack played at the wrong speed."

09: HEARTFUL OF GHOSTS

"Heartful Of Ghosts is essentially a heart-wrenching tale of paranormal love and supernatural betrayal. Sonically, this lies somewhere between a lava lamp and acupuncture... with fangs.”

10: SATURNINE SATURNÁLIA

"Saturnine Saturnalia is romantic doom and gloom at its very finest, and probably the most Sabbathian moment there is on the album. I dug out my Excalibur - the deranged fuzz pedal and vintage army flask-combo that Mige of Him built me many a moon ago - and tended to my tinnitus with gusto.”

11: ZENER SOLITAIRE

"Imagine if this was Phil Spector's ghost reinterpreting Goblin's soundtrack for Dario Argento's movie Suspiria in glorious lo-fi."

12: VERTIGO EYES

"When you meet someone whose eyes are as hypnotic as watching the Vertigo logo spinning on your turntable, you're either in love or your drink has been spiked. This is a nod to the ghosts of the past, present and future, and a suitably hallucinatory way to end the record."

#ville valo #him #his infernal majesty #neon noir #interview #interviews

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